Sixth year: the War
by Melusine07
Summary: Rated for language. Angsty mix of slash and het, but doesn't focus a lot on romance. Basically just starts where Ootp left off. Harry's not doing so great, the war is starting, and a new character shows up to help and complicate things... Just read it
1. An awkward? situation

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related material created by J.K. Rowling or various publishers or Warner Brothers.

A/N: Sorry for the insert character. Enjoy the story

"Harry, you look awful."

"Thanks, Hermione." In the sun of Diagon Alley, just outside the Leaky Cauldron, after a whole summer apart, this was what she had to say to him.

"No, I mean it. Have you been eating?"

Harry glanced at Ron, expecting see an eye-roll or hear a "really, Hermione." But Ron's expression mimicked Hermione's worried face.

"Well," said Harry, "I haven't really had much of an appetite, to tell you the truth." He really hadn't realized how much thinner he looked.

"And you haven't been sleeping either, huh?" said Ron.

"No, I guess not," said Harry. "Is it really that bad?"

Ron shrugged. Hermione bit her lip. "We're worried about you, Harry."

"I know," he said. "But I'm okay. Really." What else could he say? She was forcing him to lie.

"No, you're not. Look, I know Sirius-"

"Hermione," said Ron. "Drop it."

Harry felt a rush of gratitude. At last, Ron had stepped in and done his job.

"So," Ron turned to Harry again. "How was the Knight Bus?"

"Awful, as usual. But how else was I going to get here? The Dursleys drove me to London when I was eleven and they figure they've done enough for me."

"Oh yeah," said Ron, "How is ol' Dudley, anyways? You didn't mention him in your letters."

"Awful, I hope. I do my best to torture him."

Hermione bit her lip again, but Ron laughed.

"You guys already bought all your stuff, I guess," said Harry.

They nodded.

"Feel like coming with me to do it all again?" Harry pulled the Hogwarts letter from his pocket.

"Books first, wouldn't you say?" said Hermione as they started off.

"With you, books are always first," said Ron. But they went into Flourish and Blott's anyways.

"Mr. Potter!" cried the shopkeeper. "So good to have you back! I'm a big fan, you know."

"_A big fan??_" Harry mouthed to Ron, horrified, as the shopkeeper disappeared behind his desk. "What's that supposed to mean?" Ron had to cover his mouth to smother the giggles.

"Here we are!" said the shopkeeper, emerging with an armload of books and giving them to Harry.

"What? I.. uh.." Harry looked at the pile in his arms. It was everything on his list. "But... how did you know what I was taking?"

"It's in the papers," said Hermione quietly, who didn't seem to find all this quite as funny as Ron did.

Harry almost dropped his books. "The papers? Are you serious?"

The shopkeeper was smiling and waiting to be paid.

As Harry fished some gold from his pocket, Hermione said, "I told you to read the daily prophet. Haven't you been getting it?"

"Yes," said Harry defensively, as they came out of the shop. "I just don't read all of it."

Hermione sighed. Just then, a voice called to them from down the street.

"Hey, you guys!"

Neville was hurrying towards them. "Hi, Neville," said Harry. "Where's your Gran?"

"Oh, she lets me shop on my own now."

"Now that you're sixteen?" said Ron, "Good for you, Neville."

"Oh, that reminds me, thanks for the birthday card, Harry. But how did you know when my birthday was?"

Harry thought quickly. "Because you told me, don't you remember? We found out we have the same birthday."

Neville looked slightly worried. "No, I don't remember that. Sorry, guess I should have sent you something. Anyways, happy late birthday."

"Thanks," said Harry, "and don't worry about it."

Neville walked with them towards the next shop. "Where's Ginny?" he asked after a moment.

"Yeah," said Harry, "Where is she, anyways?"

Ron scowled, which made Hermione grin. "She's off shopping with her boyfriend," she said. "You know, Dean."

"Did everyone leave their shopping to the last minute this year?" asked Harry, as they past a group of rising forth-years.

"I don't think anyone wanted to leave home earlier than they had to. You know, with the war and all," said Hermione.

She was probably right. In the few months Harry had been absent from the wizarding world, already many changes had taken place. He noticed a certain tension in the air, despite the youthful excitement of so many Hogwarts kids being reunited and spending money. The adults seemed to hurry from shop to shop, and many stores had actually been closed indefinitely. Those old enough to remember the last war were becoming more and more afraid. Harry was very glad that he blended in with the other students around him.

When they had finished barely half of Harry's shopping, he was already exhausted. He was tired of the people, the crowds, the shopkeepers who shook his hand and tried to give him discounts, even Ron and Hermione. He was tired of talking, and he wanted to get back to his room to be alone with the same thoughts that had plagued him all summer, though he knew that once he got there he would get lonely or bored and want to go out again. It was the same restlessness that had stayed with him since that night in Dumbledore's office months ago... The fact was that he was simply no happier no matter what he did, whether he was with his friends or alone, outside or in, doing schoolwork or listening to the Dursley's TV or doing nothing at all.

Hermione must have noticed Harry's strained expression, because she suggested they go back to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. On the way they passed Ginny and Dean sharing a sundae at Florean Fortesque's. They looked so absorbed in their conversation, and Ron so disgusted, that Harry, Hermione, and Neville decided to keep on walking, at a rather brisker pace than they had before.

That night they tried to get rooms at the inn, but ran into a bit of a problem. Since Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had stayed home, letting Ron and Ginny go on their own, the kids had naturally waited till the last minute.

"Apparently," Hermione told them in the hall, "There's only one room left. And even that's just because of Harry. Ol' Tom did something, I'm not sure what, I think he kicked his mother out or something, but it was the most he could possibly do."

"Er..." said Ron, "How many beds?"

"Two, thankfully," said Hermione. "So you two can go in one, and Ginny and I will sleep in the other."

"Are you serious?" said Ron.

"Would you rather sleep with Ginny? Because I can tell you, _I'm_ not going to share the bed with you."

"It's just," said Harry, "kind of weird, don't you think?"

"Oh come off it!" said Hermione, "Me and Ginny have shared dozens of times. Believe me, you won't get cooties or turn gay or anything."

"Are you sure?" said Ron, and Harry laughed.

"Fine, then," said Hermione, "Sleep on the floor if you're that insecure about your own sexuality. Here's the key; I'm going to the bathroom to change before bed."

"It's eleven o'clock!" said Ron.

"Yes, and we have to get up early tomorrow to make the train."

She disappeared as Ron stared disapprovingly after her.

"How are we getting to the station tomorrow?" asked Harry.

"I think we're taking a cab," said Ron. "What does she mean 'insecure about my own sexuality'?"

"What, a muggle cab?"

"I'll show her..." Ron muttered distractedly, then turned back to Harry. "What did you say? Don't be stupid, why would we take a muggle cab? I guess it would be okay for one night, you know. Or else she might think we really are gay."

"Um, okay."

"But really, how could she say that? D'you reckon she really does think we're gay?"

"Oh my God, Ron, I'm sure she doesn't actually think that. And I know you don't want _her_ of all people to think you're gay but trust me she doesn't. No one thinks you're gay!" Exasperated, Harry turned up the stairs after Hermione.

"What's all that supposed to mean?"

Harry turned around. "Well, you're in love with her, aren't you?" He didn't know why he was so angry, but he was.

"_What?_"

"Everyone knows it, Ron. Why don't you just go fuck her, for heavens sake?"

Ron stared at him for a moment. "What's with you?" he said quietly.

Harry sat down on the stairs. "I don't know," he said. "I'm sorry."

Ron looked down. "This happened last year, too."

"What did?"

"You getting angry all the time."

"I know," said Harry. "I'm sorry. But you know-"

"You're having a hard time. Yeah, I know. It's okay, Harry."

Again Harry felt a warm wave of gratitude towards Ron. He felt the tingle of it over his whole body.

"I hope no one else heard what I said," remarked Harry after a moment.

Ron laughed, and everything was normal again. Just then, Harry heard footsteps behind him.

"Are you two ever going to go to bed?" asked Hermione from the top of the stairs. "Because I'm not waking you up in the morning."

She seemed to think this was a threat. Harry and Ron exchanged a look and hid their grins.

"Well it is quite late," she said. "You'll notice no one else is still up and about. Speaking of which, hasn't Ginny come back yet?"

"We haven't seen her," said Ron. "She didn't say anything to you?"

"She said she was going over to Dean's house; he lives around here, you know; but when she said she might spend the night, I assumed she was joking."

"_What?_" cried Ron, "You mean right now my little sister is over at Dean's place doing who knows what and you didn't tell me?"

"You didn't ask," said Hermione.

Ron ignored her. "That bugger! That absolute prick! I'll get him, I tell you; he's not going to get away with this..."

Harry turned to Hermione. "Perhaps we'd better leave him to his muttering."

"What, leave him alone in this state?" Hermione said in a mock-shocked voice, "I think he's unpredictable, a danger to himself and others- perhaps we should be calling Saint Mungo's."

At that moment, Ginny herself appeared in the hallway.

"You!" said Ron.

Ginny stopped and raised her eyebrows. "Me?"

"Where have you been?"

"I told Hermione, I was at Dean's. Hullo, Harry. Long time no see."

Harry waved.

Ron, however, was not to be distracted. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Er... midnight?"

"Close," said Hermione from the top of the stairs.

"What were you doing?" Ron demanded.

Ginny rolled her eyes as she walked right past her brother. "Look, Ron, I know what you're thinking but nothing happened- Harry could you move? Thanks- Actually, we broke up if you must know."

"Really?" said Hermione, who was also now moving aside to let Ginny pass, "How come?"

"Well, apparently he was thinking the same thing as Ron."

"Er, what did you expect him to think when you said you'd spend the night?"

"That was a joke, Hermione. I never told _him_ that! I just said I'd join him for dinner. But you know what? His parents weren't even home."

Ron made a choking noise.

"It was really weird," Ginny continued, "and then he was like 'aren't you going to stay the night?' I mean, really! I can't believe he thought I was that kind of girl! And you, too, Ron. Honestly. Boys are trash. From now on, I am officially a lesbian."

"Well, that's convenient," said Hermione, "We're sharing a bed tonight."

"Oh, good," said Ginny as she disappeared into the bathroom, "We can get it on."

"Now there's an unwelcome image," said Ron. Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and went into the bedroom.

That night, like every other night, Harry couldn't sleep. But this time he could feel Ron breathing beside him and it made him unreasonably uncomfortable. Apart from the light snoring of the other three, the room was silent. Spells on the walls prevented any noise whatsoever from slipping in from the outside. The quiet was driving Harry mad.

He got up and paced around the room. It was half insomnia that kept him awake, and half fear of his terrible dreams. But his thoughts kept straying to those exact things he didn't want to think about- Sirius, the prophecy, what it had felt like being possessed by Voldemort, and what might happen in the future. Eventually he came back to the same place he always did: There was nothing to live for, nothing at all, except that he was responsible for countless lives, for England and maybe the rest of the world, too. Because who could tell what might happen if Voldemort won? And if that happened, it would be Harry's fault.

Harry tortured himself with all this, pacing faster and faster around the small room. He watched Sirius disappearing into the archway, and thought how long it would be until he, Harry, might see him again. And it was Harry's fault. He couldn't stand it. He just couldn't stand it. He was so unhappy, he hated himself, he hated living like this- in a fit of passion he punched the wall. Pain shot up from his hand and for an instant seemed to fill his whole body. Then he heard a voice in the dark.

"Harry?" It was Ron. Harry hadn't realized how much noise he had made. He didn't move.

"Harry?" Ron called again, less certain this time. Harry was glad for the dark.

"Yeah?" said Harry.

"Was that you?"

"Yes. I... I guess I was sleepwalking."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. Did you take the potion we got you this morning?"

They had bought it to help him sleep. "I forgot," Harry lied. The potion did not keep dreams away. But of course, now he had no choice but to take it and come back to bed, with Ron making jokes and calling him "Luv."

Ron woke with a jolt. It took him a moment to realize what was happening. Harry was screaming and writhing next to him. The next minute he had Harry's arms and was shaking him. Harry twisted, half awake, and tried to escape Ron's grip. He worked one of his arms free and punched Ron in the face.

"Harry!" Ron yelled, pinning the other boy down. "Harry, it's me! It's Ron. You're okay. Wake up, dammit!"

Harry shook his head wildly, his eyes wide open and glittering. Ron was vaguely aware of Hermione and Ginny moving around and making noise, but Harry was still struggling.

"Harry," Ron whispered into his ear, "Come back."

Harry fell still. His face was flushed and trickles of blood were running down where he had scratched the skin. They were both breathing heavily from their struggle.

For moment, no one moved. Then Ron said, "Okay, Harry?"

Harry nodded, an odd look in his eyes. "Okay," he whispered.

Ron released him, and blushed when he realized he had been straddling his friend.

"What happened?" asked Ginny, her voice wavering.

They all looked at Harry, who gazed around him as if orienting himself and after a moment said, "Just a nightmare."

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other. "Er," said she, "What kind of nightmare?"

Harry shook his head distractedly. "A regular dream. Not- not like a vision or anything."

"Can we get something for his face?" said Ron.

"Yes, of course," said Hermione, "Hang on."

"What's wrong with my face?" asked Harry as she left the room. As he said this, he lifted a hand to touch it. His fingers came away red. "Oh my God," he said.

"Did it yourself, mate," said Ron, trying not to sound worried. He noticed Ginny was shaking slightly. He had forgotten she'd never seen one of Harry's turns before.

"Is he okay?" she asked Ron, as if Harry weren't there.

Ron looked at Harry, unwilling to speak for him. Harry looked up at her. "Yes," he said, though he still sounded distant, "I'm okay."

Hermione returned and handed Ron a bag of ice. "He got you pretty bad," she said, tenderly examining the red spot that had bloomed where Harry had hit him. Ron felt a sudden heat at her touch. He wished Harry hadn't said all those things earlier.

"Did I do that?" asked Harry. "Sorry, Ron."

"S'okay, mate. Couldn't be helped."

Hermione turned to Harry. She sat down beside him and took his chin in her hands and looked over the scratches. "Ginny," she said, "get me a towel from the bathroom. And wet it, would you?"

Ginny was back in a second with the towel. Hermione started wiping the blood from Harry's face. He winced. Then she took a bottle of salve from her pocket and with one finger gently smoothed it over the first abrasion.

"Ow!" said Harry, and gripped her arm.

"Come on, Luv," she said, "It'll help." He let his hand fall, and she continued.

By the time Harry's face had healed it was fully light out and Hermione said they might as well start getting ready to go. Ron wanted to sleep more, but thought it wise to obey.

"We have to go with the other prefects at first, of course," said Hermione as they boarded the train. "Did you know Ginny's made prefect?"

"No, I didn't," said Harry. "Congratulations, Ginny."

Ginny scowled. "Fred and George aren't speaking to me," she said. "And I don't blame them. It's a load of rubbish. And, really, why would you want for prefect the girl who opened the chamber of secrets?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other. It wasn't a matter they often spoke about.

"That wasn't you," said Harry.

"But it was my fault. I was stupid enough to trust him. And now they want me to be responsible for all these other kids. And in wartime, too! It isn't fair; I didn't ask for this."

Harry gave a brittle laugh. "I didn't ask to be responsible for all of you-"

Hermione coughed and said they had to get going. She was quite right, of course, as they were blocking the corridor. Reluctantly, Harry allowed himself to be steered away from Ginny.

He chose an empty compartment towards the back of the train and settled himself down by the window. He rested his face against the glass and tried to cool down. Ginny didn't know. But he felt she should have somehow. Or at least she could have kept her mouth shut. Even without the prophecy, hadn't he been forced to be responsible for them time and again? And there was no one else to count on. Just him.

The compartment door slid open, and Luna Lovegood appeared.

"Can I sit here?" she asked.

"Sure," said Harry. He was surprisingly glad to see her.

She took a seat across from him and unfolded the copy of her father's magazine that she had tucked under her arm.

"Did you have a good summer?" she asked him from behind the pages.

"It was a blast," he replied, somewhat sarcastically. But he had a feeling that sarcasm was lost on Luna. "How was yours?"

"Terrible," she said vaguely. "Did you know that Cornelius Fudge has been assassinated? Apparently, it happened months ago but the ministry's been hiding it. They even got a man to act like Fudge."

"I suppose you found that out playing the White Album backwards?"

"What?" She glanced up briefly.

"Nothing."

The door opened again, and this time another girl entered, someone Harry didn't know. She was exquisitely beautiful, with curling black hair and a pale, sharp face. She reminded Harry of someone as her eyes swept over the compartment.

"Any room?" she asked. But she was already shutting the door behind her. Harry just nodded, trying to place those grey eyes and upper class drawl in his memory. Suddenly he had it.

"I'm sorry, but are you related to Draco Malfoy?" he said.

"Yes," she said, looking surprised as she sat down next to him. "He's my twin, actually. Why, do we look alike?"

Harry nodded again.

"Lucia," she said, extending a hand, "and I take it you're Harry Potter."

He hesitated before shaking her hand. "And that's Luna Lovegood. Er... why haven't I met you before? If you're really Malfoy's sister - I mean, I've never even heard of you."

"I should think not." She tossed her head. "They don't approve of me, you see."

"What house are you in?" Harry was still skeptical.

"None, yet. I was at Durmstrang until they chucked me out."

"They chucked you out of Durmstrang? My God, what did you do?"

"It wasn't what I _did_," she said irritably, "so much as what they thought I did. And it doesn't help to have a family of Death Eaters."

"Oh, really? I thought your dear dad had everyone in his pocket."

"Well, that may be the case here," she said, "I don't know. But in Germany, especially now that Tom's back, they really don't take too kindly to people like me. Anyways, it seems my father is in prison nowadays, so I wonder how much political power he has anymore."

"Tom?"

"Fine, 'The Dark Lord,' then."

"You call him 'Tom.'"

"Alright, what do you call him, Potter?"

"I call him Voldemort."

"Oh, excuse me for using his given name."

"Anyways, I thought your father escaped Azkaban."

"Oh, did he? I haven't really been reading the news lately."

"I see. Are you sure you're his daughter?"

"Are you calling my mother a harlot?"

"What? No."

"Because I don't think she's had a moment of spontaneity or fun in her life. She's far too dull to have an affair."

"I'll remember that." Harry looked over and saw Luna watching them over her magazine.

"So, you know Draco, do you?" asked Lucia.

"Know him? He's the bane of my existence."

"How cliché," she said. "And wouldn't that be our friend Tom?"

"Okay, suffice to say, we hate each other."

"Well, that's no surprise. Considering the family and all. Poor bugger didn't get away like I did."

"You said they disapproved of you. Does that mean you disapprove of them?"

"To put it mildly, yes. I'm on you're side, I should say."

"But not according to Durmstrang."

"It wasn't Durmstrang that kicked me out. They don't mind any sort of politics. It was Germany. The government had me deported."

"Shit."

"I know."

"Really, though. What do they think you did?"

"They think I killed a girl. I was tried for murder, but they couldn't prove anything. But they didn't want to let me off, and they had their suspicions, my father being who he is and her family having been a long line of aurors. So they settled on sending me back to jolly old England."

"Can they really do that? Just send criminals off?"

"I don't know how legal it was, but they did it. And I wasn't a criminal remember, they hadn't proved anything."

"That's even worse, sending off innocent people."

"No, that's much better, actually. Who would you rather have sitting next to you, a criminal from Germany or an innocent?"

"But they must have given a reason."

"Security measures against terrorism and illegal political activity."

"I see." There was a pause. Then he added, "But you didn't kill her?"

"No," Lucia said quietly, "She was my girlfriend. I loved her."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything at all.

Luckily, the sweets cart came around about then. Harry wasn't hungry, but he bought some pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs, and Bertie Bott's beans for Ginny, Ron, and Hermione.

The three sat in silence for a while, Luna reading the Quibbler and Harry and Lucia each lost in their own thoughts.

When Ginny, Ron and Hermione arrived, the door slid open with a bang that made Harry jump.

"Insufferable!" Ginny was saying, "He's absolutely _insufferable_!" Ron and Hermione seemed to be trying to calm her down, but her face had gone pale and her ears bright red, just like Ron's when he was angry.

"Who's insufferable?" asked Harry.

Ginny flung herself down next to Luna. "Guess who's the other prefect for Gryffindor? Colin Creevey."

"What? How'd he manage that?"

"That's what I'd like to know. And you know what? I think he _fancies_ me! He kept making eyes at me and asking how I was doing and staring at me and oh my God he's so _annoying_!"

"Now you know how I feel," said Harry.

"Yes!" she said, "and he won't stop asking about you, either!"

"Yeah," said Ron, "Actually I think it's Harry he has a crush on more than anything else."

"Oh, shut up, Ron," said Harry.

"Or maybe," said Hermione teasingly, "It's Ginny he's been obsessed with all along and the only reason he was obsessed with Harry was that he knew Ginny was obsessed with him and he wanted Ginny to be obsessed with _him_."

"That doesn't even make sense," said Ron.

"I was never _obsessed_ with Harry," said Ginny.

Lucia cleared her throat, and the others suddenly noticed her.

"I'm sorry," said Ginny, "I don't believe I've met you before. I'm Ginny Weasley."

"Lucia Malfoy."

Ron choked on the pumpkin pasty he had been eating. "Malfoy?"

Lucia rolled her eyes. "Yes, Malfoy. Lucius is my father; Draco is my brother. I won't bite, I swear."

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione. "And this is Ron, Ginny's brother. And I guess you've met Harry."

"More so in newspapers than in real life, but yes."

"Don't believe everything you read," said Luna suddenly from the corner.

"Hi, Luna," said Ginny. "Good summer?"

"Not really. Anyways, you can't believe the things they print in those newspapers."

"Yes," said Harry with a laugh, "Please, _please_, don't believe everything you read. Rita Skeeter..."

"Oh, don't talk about her," said Hermione. "Just the thought of that woman makes me sick."

"Who's Rita Skeeter?" asked Lucia.

"She used to write for the Prophet, before Hermione put her out of commission," explained Ron.

"Oh," said Lucia, "I haven't read the Prophet in... six years, I think. In Germany I read the local papers."

"They talk about me in German papers?" Harry asked.

"Well, yes. Especially this one underground paper. They believed you all along, you know. They write about you all the time, they say you're a symbol, an inspiration to the... er... what's the word?... working class or something."

Just then, the compartment door opened once again, this time for the obligatory visit from Draco, accompanied of course by Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Oh my God," said Hermione, before he could speak, "Don't you three have _lives_ outside of annoying us?"

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but Lucia was already on her feet and saying, "_Draaaaco_, my goodness, it's been so long! Oh, my dear, dear brother, at last we meet again!" And dramatically, she embraced him, while he stood frozen with shock, his mouth still open.

She finished hugging him and stood before him smiling brightly. He stared at her. Her expression turned to concern. "Don't you remember me, Draco? Has it been so long, Brother, that time has effaced from your mind the memory of my adoring face?"

"What are you doing here?" he said finally, speaking very low. He no longer seemed to be aware of the others around him.

"Didn't they tell you? I was deported, and-"

"I know that part," he said. "I'm not stupid. I just thought you were still in the loony bin."

"They let me out," she said. "So here I am."

"But you're mad."

"I got better."

"They said you tried to kill yourself."

"Only twice."

"They said you killed a girl."

"They lied."

"They said I'd never see you again."

"Well, I'm here now."

There was a pause.

"I hate you."

"I know."

There was nothing more to say. The compartment door slid shut.


	2. Big surprise

(A/N: something is being weird about the formatting, so sorry if it changes scenes and POV's abruptly. there are supposed to be asterixes in between....) 

Chapter Two

When the train at last stopped at Hogsmeade station, Ginny hung back as the others exited the compartment, and grabbed Harry's arm. When they were alone, she said, "I'm sorry about what I said this morning. It was stupid."

"It doesn't matter," he said. He didn't look at her.

Ginny waited for him to say more, but he didn't seem to be thinking of the subject anymore. He was looking around the compartment, and running his hand through his hair.

Finally, he said, "Can I tell you something, Ginny?"

"Sure you can."

His cheeks were flushed and his mouth tight. "Something I've never told anyone before, not even Ron and Hermione?"

She moved closer. "What is it, Harry?"

He looked around again, still fidgeting. He took a deep breath and said, "Do you remember the prophecy Voldemort was trying to get at last year?"

"Of course."

"Dumbledore told m-"

At that moment, Ron appeared. "Do you two plan to go to school at all this year? Or are you just going to ride back to London again? The carriages are leaving." But as he surveyed the scene, Harry flushed and breathless, Ginny closer than normal and probably a bit pale with concern, Ron's face broke into a wide grin. "Of course," he added. "You might like the time alone. Although the beds at Hogwarts are a lot more comfortable-"

He didn't finish, as Ginny had decked him across the face.

"Ow! Right where Harry got me last night. Nice going, Ginny."

"Serves you right!" she said. "And you're supposed to be protecting me! You just wait'll I tell mum!"

"And I'll tell her you hit me!"

They bickered down the corridor, Harry following a little ways behind. Ginny knew he was brooding, but didn't want to be so blatant as to tell Ron what had happened in Harry's range of hearing. Harry probably assumed that she would tell Ron and Hermione, considering he hadn't asked her not to, but she did have some sense of decency.

The carriages stood waiting, swaying a bit in the warm breeze, and looking to her as always as if drawn by invisible horses. She glanced at Harry, and wondered for the thousandth time what he saw there. His face was impassive.

She heard Hagrid from a little ways off, calling the first years to him. She looked around and found his lantern bobbing up and down in the night. Ron had seen it, too. "Oy," he bellowed, "Alright, Hagrid?"

Upon hearing his friend's name, Harry seemed to come back to the present. He waved as Hagrid came striding over to greet them. But the carriages were ready to go, and all the first years had been rounded up. Harry, Ron, and Ginny climbed into the nearest carriage with nothing more than a greeting from Hagrid. There would be time to talk later.

Ginny leaned her head back against her seat, sweating from the unusual warmth and wondering what Harry had learned about the Prophecy.

It was at the welcome feast that Harry realized that for the first time ever he wasn't at all relieved to be back at Hogwarts.

It wasn't that he would rather be at Privett Drive or even Diagon Alley or the Burrow. He just didn't particularly want to be here, just as he didn't particularly want to be anywhere. It was an odd feeling, and it made Harry even more depressed to realize how low he'd sunk.

It didn't help to hear what Zacharias Smith had to say to him in the entrance hall.

"Hey, Harry," he said, looking grim. "Did you hear?"

"I guess not," said Harry.

"Susan Bones died over the summer," said Smith quietly, without a hint of his usual arrogance.

Harry was silent. He had expected something this, but he hadn't read anything in the papers.

"They got her whole family," Zacharias went on. "But she put up a good fight. Together they took out six Death Eaters. I thought you should know, since you wouldn't see it in the Prophet."

"Then how do you know?" asked Ginny quietly. Harry almost jumped. He hadn't realized, or had forgotten, rather, that she was right behind him.

"They're family friends," said Smith. My cousin was there, and survived just long enough to tell the tale."

"God, I'm sorry," said Harry.

Zacharias sniffed and shrugged. "It's a war. You've got to expect casualties." And with that, he disappeared into the crowd of students surging towards the Great Hall.

Harry couldn't move. After a moment, he felt a gentle push from behind. "C'mon, Harry," Ginny said. "We've just got to keep going."

There was no denying the truth in that, so Harry went on numbly to the feast and sat next to Ron and Hermione, who had saved space for them.

The sorting ceremony seemed to pass quickly, and Dumbledore made a speech. Harry knew it would be important this year and that he should probably be paying attention, but he hardly heard the headmaster as he dwelt on the fate of Susan Bones. Susan, who had been in the DA, Susan, who had always been so mature and so like her aunt... Zacharias had said they'd killed her whole family. That must include Madame Bones. Harry hadn't exactly known Susan well, and had only spoken to her aunt during his trial the year before, but he still felt something personal at their deaths. Was it because Susan had been among those he had tried to help? Or would every death in this war fall on him, his fault for not killing Voldemort sooner? And the things he'd taught them in the DA... Smith had said she'd put up a good fight, but that wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't. Nothing would have been.

Suddenly, it seemed to Harry, Dumbledore's speech was over, and the food appeared. Knowing that Hermione was watching him, Harry dutifully helped himself to a decent amount of food. He had begun to force some of it down his throat, while Ginny told Ron and Hermione in a low voice about Susan Bones, when Lucia came and took a seat beside him.

"I got sorted into Gryffindor," she said.

"That's got to be a first," said Harry, "a Malfoy in Gryffindor."

"I know," she said. "My parents will be thrilled."

Harry laughed. "Just like my aunt and uncle were thrilled when I got into Hogwarts."

"Muggles, aren't they?"

"Yeah. And just about the worst kind."

"They can't beat my parents, I guarantee it."

"Lucia," said Ginny, who had just noticed she was there. "Are- are you in Gryffindor?"

"That's right. Malfoy in Gryffindor, how 'bout that?"

"That's really great," said Ginny earnestly. "Congratulations."

Ron and Hermione agreed and expressed their approval.

"Are you happy with it?" asked Harry.

"I dunno. I thought Ravenclaw might be nice, but I really don't know enough about it to say which is the best."

"What are you talking about?" said Ron, "Gryffindor's obviously the best."

Lucia smiled. "Actually," she said in a confidential whisper, "I thought it might be considering it's the house my father hates the most. Although, to be honest, I'd rather be in Slytherin even, than Hufflepuff."

"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?" asked Harry defensively, thinking of Cedric.

"Nothing, unless you're me. I hate all that 'good people' crap. It's bullshit, is what it is. Authority equates obedience with morality. I refuse to be obedient!"

"Is everything political with you?" said Harry.

"What are you talking about? Everything's political with everyone."

"There he is!" said Ron suddenly.

Everyone jumped. "Who?" demanded Hermione.

Ron was standing up. "Dean! That bugger!"

In unison, Hermione and Ginny each grabbed hold of one of his arms and promptly pulled him back down onto the bench.

"You can't go beating on all my ex-boyfriends, Ron," said Ginny harshly.

"But you said-"

"Violence is not the answer to everything," said Hermione. "Now stop behaving like a ten year old. You're a prefect for goodness sake."

"Wait," said Ginny, "You mean now I'm going to have to stop duffing people up just because I'm a Prefect?"

"I could just put some itching powder in his sheets," said Ron thoughtfully, "but that's so much less dramatic. Wish I could turn him into a ferret."

"I know he was a maniac," said Ginny, "but we did have some good times with fake Moody, didn't we?"

Harry looked at her. She was goading him, surely. On the one hand, it was a fairly innocent statement, and true enough. On the other hand, after her comment on the train that morning, it seemed like she wanted any excuse to set Harry off. Perhaps she was hoping that he would confide in her if she got him angry again. Then again, perhaps she just liked to laugh at him.

"The ferret incident was fairly enjoyable," he said.

Ron, who seemed to have been waiting to see how Harry would react, took the cue and said, "Fairly enjoyable! It was the best moment of my life."

Hermione sniffed disapprovingly. "I told you a teacher shouldn't do that. No adult who wasn't a psychopath would have turned a fourteen year old boy into a ferret, no matter what the circumstances."

"Who got turned into a ferret?" asked Lucia, who had hitherto restrained herself from asking questions, having resigned herself to being lost in the majority of the conversation.

"Oh," said Harry, "That would be your brother."

"Well, that's not so bad then," she said.

"See?" said Ron, "Even his sister thinks he deserved it."

"That's not quite what I meant, although I'm sure he did deserve it. I meant that we had much worse at home, so it couldn't have been to traumatic for him."

Ron's triumphant expression faded, and Hermione gave him a dirty look. Ginny cleared her throat uncomfortably. Harry considered Lucia as she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice, having apparently decided to forgo the meal. Her hair was blacker than his and she swept it out of the way as she drank deeply. Her hands were small and thin.

That night, Harry lay in bed, Ron and Dean's shouting match still ringing in his ears. He had a terrible headache. They had finally shut up only when he had yelled at them. Harry sighed. Another year of fights in the dormitory. He was still selfishly glad that Seamus had come round last year.

As Harry heard the others slip into sleep, their breathing becoming slower and more regular, he wondered what they were dreaming about. Most likely not graveyards or archways or green light. Harry hadn't taken the potion tonight, either. He didn't want a repeat of this morning.

This morning. He didn't want to think about it. But of course, now he had to. Now that it was dark and quiet and there was nothing to distract him, he would have to dwell on all the unpleasant things he tried (with limited success) to keep hidden in the daytime.

But this morning. Ron had brought him back... Harry's stomach turned.

Why? Why should Harry feel this burning sensation at the memory?

Ron had whispered in his ear, "Come back." Harry could still feel his breathing...

Harry sat up in bed. That was it. He was in love with Ron.

No, that couldn't be it. But even as he denied it, he knew it was true. He felt sick.

But I'm not... he thought in the dark. I'm not gay. Feebly, he clung to memories of Cho Chang, tried to recall what he had felt and held those moments up like paper shields against the hailstorm that threatened to engulf him. But it was no use. He couldn't even remember anymore if he had ever fancied her. He had been fascinated with her, surely, but it was nothing. So quickly forgotten...

So, then. It was Ron. Harry tried to steady his breathing. He tried to calm himself, conjuring Hermione's voice out of the night.

"Calm down, Harry. What are you so panicked for? So you're gay. Big surprise, we already knew."

That wasn't quite what Hermione would say, but it did the trick. Harry lay still for a few minutes, concentrating on the first obstacle: he was gay. A sickening thought, though not altogether shocking. He thought he could deal with it, as he had always had to deal with being different.

Next, then, was the more frightening idea that the object of his affections was no other than his very best friend. This was harder to accept, though, again, Harry knew it was true. He felt it. He must have always known it, really, and just not wanted to admit it to himself.

Suddenly Harry couldn't sit still any longer. He got up.

It was hot in the dormitory, and all the boys had the curtains open around their beds. Seamus had even forgone the formality of pajamas. Mercifully, Ron had learned from growing up in a house full of older brothers that there were certain vulnerabilities which accompanied such a move. So Ron was sleeping in his regular, long-sleeved flannel pajamas, splayed out across the sheets on his stomach, his back rising and falling slowly with each breath.

Harry didn't know how long he stood there, watching Ron sleep, or what wild thoughts occupied his brain. He just knew there was something terribly painful about it, and at the same time he didn't want to leave. He was reminded of gazing into the mirror of Erised back in his first year, and seeing his family, all long dead, gathered around him. Here again was something utterly unreachable.

He was lost to his strange and unfamiliar thoughts until he heard a voice behind him that made him jump. It was Neville, on the bed opposite, calling Harry's name.

Harry whirled around, guilt and shame pouring down on him.

"I thought it was you," said Neville. "Can't you sleep either?"

"No," said Harry. Hadn't he heard Neville snoring along with the rest?

"I haven't really slept all summer," said Neville. "I keep remembering what happened."

"Me, too," said Harry.

"Want to come sit with me?" asked Neville.

Harry hesitated, but he appreciated Neville's odd kindness. He sat down on Neville's bed. It reminded him of he and Ron in their first year.

"Do you want some chocolate?" said Neville, and Harry heard the wrapper of a chocolate frog. As he smelled the familiar aroma, he found that, miraculously, he did.

"Sure," he said, and Neville handed him one. It was too dark to see the card properly.

"Do you have nightmares, too?" Neville asked him.

"All the time," said Harry.

"Me, too. I hate them."

"Me, too." Suddenly Harry was struck by an idea. He had to tell someone, why not the person most affected besides himself?

"Neville," said Harry, "Did you know that you were almost me?"

"What?" Neville's tone was mildly puzzled.

"I lied to you when I said you'd told me when your birthday was. I know that doesn't make sense, but let me explain."

Harry paused, and Neville was silent. "What I'm going to tell you," Harry said, "I haven't told anyone. And I don't want anyone to know, not yet. Not even Ron and Hermione."

"I won't tell anyone, Harry," said Neville quietly, and Harry knew he had offended him.

"I didn't mean that you would," he explained. "I just needed to make sure. That's how important it is."

He paused again before going on. "Last year, after- after the battle, Dumbledore told me what the prophecy said. It said that there would be 'one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord.'"

"That's you," said Neville, with startling certainty.

"But it wasn't always," said Harry, "that's what I'm trying to tell you. The prophecy said that this one would be born on the last day of the seventh month, to parents who had defied Voldemort three times. That's me, but it's also you."

Neville was silent. In the dark Harry could make out little except that the other boy's features seemed to be immobile.

"Voldemort heard that part of the prophecy and for some reason thought of me. Or maybe he just did me first and planned to kill you later that night or something. I don't know. Anyways, he didn't know the rest, which was why he wanted the prophecy last year. The part he didn't hear was that the person was someone he would 'mark as his equal.' Which, I guess, is what he accidentally did to me. And now I've got to kill him, or he'll kill me. 'Neither can live while the other survives.'"

Neville didn't say anything for a long while. Just when Harry was beginning to think that the other boy had fallen asleep, Neville said, "You're sure?"

"Dumbledore told me," said Harry.

"No wonder you can't sleep."

"Yeah."

"So it's okay that I didn't send you a birthday card."

Harry laughed.

"Does this mean we're friends now?" said Neville.

Harry frowned. "We were always friends."

"Not really. You never told me anything before unless you had to."

"Well, it's different now. You were there. You were with me when Sirius died. You saw it."

"And you've seen my parents."

They sat together until the sky turned grey with dawn.

Harry went down to breakfast very early so that he wouldn't have to be alone with Ron, leaving Neville still eating chocolate frogs on his bed. He found Hermione already at table, flipping through old issues of The Daily Prophet.

"It's not in hear anywhere," she said to him. "Not even a hint!"

"Susan Bones?" Harry inquired dully.

"Her entire family..." said Hermione. "Of course, her parents had already been killed during the first war."

"I didn't know that," said Harry miserably. She was in the same boat as him. Had been, he corrected himself.

After a short while Hermione put the papers down and looked at Harry critically.

"Did you sleep last night?"

Harry didn't see the point of lying. "No."

"Did you take the potion?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't like sleeping. I'd rather stay up all night than have nightmares, alright?"

"Fair enough. But we need to do something about your nightmares, if they're really that bad."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. I'll do some research."

"Good. I'm glad you'll be able to amuse yourself."

"Oh, Harry. Why do you insist on being so difficult?"

"Honestly? Because it's fun," said Harry.

"Hello, Lucia," said Hermione. Harry turned around, and indeed Lucia was there, looking well rested but not exactly happy. She sat down beside Harry and helped herself to some orange juice.

"Did you sleep well, Hermione?" asked Lucia.

"I slept okay. You?"

"Fine. What was that noise, though?"

"Oh, that was my alarm clock. It's meant to wake us up. Parvati and Lavender find it helpful as well, but I can turn it off if you like."

"No, that's okay." Lucia paused to sip her juice, and said, "I take it you're mudblood, then?"

Hermione stiffened. Harry whipped out his wand. "I knew it," he said.

"Harry, put it away!" Hermione hissed.

"You take that back," Harry said to Lucia.

Lucia looked stunned. "Er..." she said. "I thought she was, I'm sorry. What did I say wrong?"

"You said 'mudblood,'" Harry snarled.

"Was that not the word?" She was genuinely confused. "What do you call someone with muggle parents?"

"Muggle-born," said Hermione. "Harry, put it away, you know you're just looking for an excuse to be angry."

"Muggle-born," repeated Lucia thoughtfully. "So was it offensive, what I said?"

"Very," said Hermione.

"I'm sorry. I really didn't know. I just came back from Germany, you know. And before that, I was an Ampist, so you can imagine..."

"What's an Ampist?" Harry interrupted, his anger gone as quickly as it had come.

Lucia's eyes widened at his ignorance, but Hermione stepped in. The term had simply never come up before. "It's from A.M.P." she explained. "Which officially stands for 'Alliance of Magical Purity,' though most people say it means 'Anti-Muggle Party.' Voldemort is an Ampist, and so are the people who support him."

"But not every Ampist is for Voldemort," added Lucia.

"True," said Hermione, "though most are. In Britain, at least."

Harry nodded. It was simply a word for the people he already knew existed.

Hermione was fidgety and impatient. She kept glancing towards the entrance, and Harry knew she was waiting for Ron.

"Did you like Durmstrang?" Hermione asked Lucia.

"It was alright, I guess. We learned a lot. I liked being there because it wasn't home. Plus I had Danica."

"Who's that?" Hermione asked politely.

"My girlfriend," said Lucia.

"The one who died?" said Harry.

"Yeah. She killed herself."

"I'm so sorry," said Hermione. "That... that's terrible."

"And I got blamed for it," said Lucia.

"Even worse," muttered Harry.

But he and Hermione both promptly forgot the subject as Hermione finally spotted Ron making his way toward them through the growing crowd. Harry tried not to look at Ron any more or less than usual, which he found very difficult.

"Ron, finally!" said Hermione, "I thought you were going to be late for class your first day."

"Hermione," said Ron, "It's eight thirty. Classes don't start for half an hour."

"Eight thirty? Is it really?" she said, "I wonder where the mail is."

Right on cue, a horde of owls suddenly descended on the Great Hall. A moment later, Hermione had in front of her a copy of the Daily Prophet as well as a fat muggle newspaper.

"That yours?" asked Ron, through a mouthful of eggs.

"Yes," said Hermione, "I find you get a lot more putting the two together. You've got to read between the lines, you know."

"Especially with that Prophet," said Lucia darkly, "They're in the minister's pocket, they are. Even more so with the war, I should expect."

"Of course," said Hermione, "they've already proven that." And she fell to scanning the pages, hardly even looking up when the schedules came around.

"Harry," said Ron, "are you mad? You signed up for Snape's NEWT class?"

"You have to take Potions," said Harry, "to be an auror."

"Guess that's out of the question for me, then," said Ron. "Anyway, why do they even need you to take anything, you already are an auror."

"Shut up," said Harry.

Ron sighed and compared their schedules. "Looks like we've got Transfiguration and Charms together... heh, wonder if anyone signed up for NEWT history of magic. Besides Hermione, I mean. Wait... you haven't even got Defense Against the Dark Arts. How are you going to be an auror without that?"

"What?" Harry snatched the schedule from him. He glanced down the page, and found that Ron was quite right- there was no Defense Against the Dark Arts listed. There were, however, several blocks of free time which seemed to be absent from Ron's week. "I wonder if they've got me down for some sort of independent thing. I'll have to ask McGonagall. Who did they say is the new teacher, anyways?"

"Weren't you listening?" Ron asked.

"No."

"Me neither."

"Someone named Professor Moon," said Lucia. "A young woman. Looked about sixteen, actually. I thought she was a student. There she is." She pointed to the High Table. There indeed sat a small, pretty, woman with shoulder-length, brown hair in emerald green robes. She really did look about sixteen.

"Wow," said Ron immediately, in a tone that was obscene enough to rouse Hermione from her study of the news.

"What?" she snapped.

Ron smirked at her reaction and pressed his advantage. "The new DADA teacher is hot," he said.

Suddenly, Harry couldn't take it anymore. He was sick of their games, trying to make each other as jealous as possible. It was a pretty twisted way of showing affection, if you asked him. But they were completely absorbed in themselves. They didn't even notice as Harry stood and walked away without explanation.

A/N: More to come, obviously. May turn HP/DM later. Definitely NOT HP/NL, in case that's what you were thinking. And don't worry, it'll pick up. I can't possibly keep it at a day at a time, considering I plan to span the whole year....

To MagickBeing: Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you for reveiwing! I was beginning to wonder how one gets any readers at all in a category as large as HP. Anyways, your reveiw meant a lot to me, especially having read your work and seen your talent. No, I'm not just kissing ass, I'm serious. So, thanks for taking the time, and I hope you can take some more later to read the rest! (well, I guess you would have already if you're reading this)


	3. Sibling rivalry

Chapter Three

Lucia noticed, however. She followed Harry out to the lawns and down by the lake. He sat down on the bank, looking moodily into the water. She sat down beside him, causing him to give a quick glance in her direction before looking away again. She said nothing, and neither did he.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Ginny was angry with Ron for having shouted at Dean and making a big mess out of such a tiny matter. As if she couldn't handle it herself. As if she needed his protection. She avoided him and the others at breakfast, and instead went to the owlery to send her mother a note saying they had arrived safely.

_Dear Mum and Dad, _she wrote

_We are all each in one piece, safe and healthy. So don't worry like you do. We all met up at Diagon Alley. Our friends are both fine, and send their best. She is watching the news carefully, and he is okay, we are cheering him up. We are all disappointed in the papers. I'll write more later._

_-Ginny_

She read it over, wondering if she had worked in the right amount of clarity and veiled references. She hoped they would recognize her "disappointment in the papers" as a plea for information. Whatever. It would have to do. She called Pigwidgeon to her and tied the letter to his leg.

"Take it to Mum, okay?"

He hooted excitedly and flapped his wings. She knew Ron would probably be angry that she was using his owl, but she didn't much care. If he was too busy flirting with Hermione and shouting at Dean to write their parents, that was his problem.

After Pigwidgeon flew off, Ginny stood by the window a little longer, painfully aware of the short time she had left before the start of class and official beginning of her O.W.L. year. She surveyed the grounds, feeling the hot breeze and wondering when the heat wave would break. Sturdy, black Hogwarts robes were not meant for such weather.

By the lake, Ginny saw Harry and Lucia sitting together. She felt a slight pain in her ribs, a stab of jealousy. It wasn't so much that she fancied Harry- she had lost her hero-worship for him as soon as she got to know him. Impossible not to lose that awe, equally impossible not to keep that thrill. She no longer wanted to be rescued, however. Now she wished to be the rescuer. She had to pay him back or live forever in his debt, feeling weak and damsel-esque. She wanted, too, to have the power over him that he had had over her. Not maliciously, but she wanted him to feel that sweet pain, that anguished joy, that had characterised her exaggerated crush. She wanted to give him the same thrill he had given her.

Not that it would ever happen. Ginny knew very well that Harry was likely to die in the war. He could be gone by this time next year. She had very little confidence in Dumbledore, having seen how he let Harry and everyone else get into danger again and again. Besides, experience and the twins had taught her to distrust authority. The ministry had betrayed them, Percy turned his back, and countless teachers had proven unworthy in some form or another. In the end, she knew, the only person she could really rely on was herself. Not that she didn't trust others, she just knew that a trustworthy self is worth a thousand trustworthy friends. If she wanted to save Harry from whatever it was making him thinner and paler every day, she would just have to do it herself. She vowed to do everything she could to rescue him. And if, from this stonehard determination, she managed to save him from one second of pain, than perhaps it would make up for the time he almost died of her stupidity. She had been weak before, a little girl. But now she was a woman, and she was strong.

If Harry was going to die, it wasn't going to happen without Ginny Weasley doing all she could to stop it.

With this thought, Ginny ran from the owlery, having just realized she was late for her first lesson of the year.

----------------------------------------------

Much to Harry's displeasure, NEWT Potions was first. He showed Lucia down to the dungeons, Hermione joining up with them when they passed the great hall. (Ron waved merrily at them, sniggering and wishing them good luck.)

Since NEWT classes were so selective, each class was comprised of students from all houses. And since students only chose a few subjects to pursue, the majority of work was done outside the classroom, as homework.

Of course, Draco Malfoy was also in this class, as were Pansy Parkinson, Ernie MacMillan, and Padma Patil. Obviously, it was not the most popular of classes. It was also probably the hardest to get into. Harry assumed Dumbledore had spoken to Snape about letting Harry into the class. Harry knew now it was just another of the things he had to endure to prepare him for battle. As he leaned against the wall with the others in the corridor outside the classroom he thought how he was less of a person now than a weapon. Of course, he had been all along, really. He just hadn't known until now. And hadn't that been Dumbledore's mistake? He had seen Harry as a human instead of a tool, and that was what had kept him from telling Harry all that he should have.

"Harry?" said Hermione. "Are you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Someday I'm going to stop believing you when you say that," Hermione commented.

Several minutes later, Snape still wasn't there, and the students were getting restless. Hermione paced up and down the corridor; Ernie MacMillan gave Padma a long-winded speech detailing his opinions concerning the war, which led to a complicated political debate between them. Draco chatted with Pansy, trying very hard, it seemed, not to glance in Lucia's direction. Lucia, for her part, watched him the entire time, shifting her weight from foot to foot in an annoying way and remaining oblivious to everything else. Harry slid down against the wall until he was sitting on the floor, half-listening to Ernie and Padma's arguing and trying not to think about Ron.

When ten minutes had passed, Hermione said, "Why isn't he here yet? I wonder if he's even coming."

Parkinson glanced at her watch. "Good point, Granger. He's not here; I'm skivving. Draco?"

Draco shrugged. Pansy was impatient. "Well, I'm leaving," she said. "Bye, losers."

"So sad to see you go," said Hermione.

Harry half expected Draco to pounce on Hermione for this, but to his surprise the blond wizard sneered after Pansy and performed a rude gesture at her retreating back. He then turned sullenly away from her, catching sight of Harry's face as he did.

"What are you smirking at, Potter?" he spat.

Harry stood up. He didn't have Dudley to torment anymore and he was itching for a good fight.

It didn't seem that Draco was, however, for he turned away without even waiting for an answer. He was visibly thrown off balance by Lucia's presence, which he still seemed determined to ignore.

Harry felt disappointed and somewhat slighted. He was hungry for their ritual insults and threats, taunts and violence. In fact, Harry desperately wanted to punch something and would have been quite happy had Draco decided to physically attack him. He couldn't pick a fight, though. Not now, anyways, with Hermione and witnesses present.

Abruptly, as if suddenly coming to a decision, Lucia said, "Draco, you can't ignore me forever."

"I can and I bloody well will."

"Well, I thought you might like to have these." From the pocket in her robes, Lucia pulled out a bundle of letters, a delicate iron chain tied around the stack.

"What's this?" said Draco as she shoved the packet into his hands.

"Father's letters," she said.

"I don't need these," he said disgustedly. "He writes to me, now."

"That's not what I meant at all. I want you to give them back to him. I haven't opened a single one."

Draco flushed. Hermione had stopped her pacing to watch, and even Ernie and Padma had paused in their discussion. However, just as on the train, Draco and Lucia seemed again unaware of the spectators.

"Give them back yourself," he said, holding the pile out towards her. "I'm not doing your dirty work for you."

She didn't take the letters. "I'll never get the chance to give them back. You know why? Because I'm never going to see him again. And if I do, I'm going to kill him!"

Draco snorted contemptuously. "No, you won't."

"Won't I?"

"No, you'll end up licking his balls like you always do."

She took two swift steps forward and slapped him across the face.

"Go back to Mother," she hissed, "the bed's all warmed up for you."

In one quick motion he caught her in the chest and threw her against the wall. "Don't confuse me with yourself, you fucking cunt!"

And he was gone, walking as quickly as possible without actually running.

"Draco!" She called out after him, but she didn't follow him.

Harry helped her up.

"Well," she said, "so much for that."

"He's a git," said Hermione at once.

"No," said Lucia, "He's right. So do you reckon we're still going to have class?"

"I doubt it," said Padma Patil, "considering class is half over."

"It's not like Snape to miss a class," said Ernie MacMillan.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. They had some things to discuss once they took care of Lucia.

-----------------------------------------------

Hermione, Harry, and Lucia went back to the Gryffindor common room, where Ron and Seamus were enjoying their free period playing wizard's chess in the corner by a window. Ron hailed them when they came in. "Get kicked out of class already?"

Hermione gave him the look that had always meant something was up, and she saw the grin vanish from his face. He knew enough not to ask questions; all would be explained in time.

Harry was still holding Lucia's arm, though she hardly needed the support now. Hermione wished he would let go so that she could talk to him and Ron alone about the significance of everything that had just happened. In fact, it would be the first time since Diagon Alley that they would be free to talk. Two days was a long time when so much had happened. Susan Bones, for instance. But in a second Hermione realized the meeting wasn't going to happen, as Harry clung to Lucia and refused to meet Ron's eyes, and Ron returned to playing chess.

Hermione bit her lip. She wanted to at least talk to one of them. So she watched as Harry and Lucia sat on the hearth rug by the fireplace in which, in the strange weather, had been conjured a cooling fire. Then she caught Ron's eye the next time he looked up from the chessboard. She gave him a look which she hoped said "I don't care what excuse you give, just get out of here so I can talk to you- now!" and climbed back through the portrait hole.

A minute later, Ron followed. She was waiting in the corridor, nervously chewing her tongue.

"What is it?" asked Ron.

"What did you tell Seamus?" Hermione wanted to gauge how much time they had.

"I just told him we were snogging."

"You didn't!"

"No," he admitted, "I didn't. But it's what he thinks anyway. I told him I had to go to the loo. So what's up?"

Hermione swallowed her anger with Ron. She had to focus. "Snape didn't show up."

"What, like not at all? Just plain wasn't there?"

"We waited through half the period; he never showed."

Ron was quiet. "You think he's doing... other things?" he said after a moment.

"That was my guess. But it wouldn't be regular duty, to interfere with class time. And there wasn't even a note or anything. The more I think about it, I'm actually worried."

"Worried about Snape?" Ron grinned.

"Come on, Ron," she lowered her voice, "you know he's important. If they...." she was speaking in a barely audible whisper now, so that Ron had to lean in close. "If they find him out, we're done."

Of course Seamus would choose that moment to come out through the portrait hole. "I knew it!" he crowed at the sight of them. "I called it! I absolutely called it!"

Hermione felt the heat rising in her face, and Ron's ears were bright red.

"Sod off, Seamus," said Ron, through a grin.

"I'll tell you the rest later," Hermione muttered.

"There's more?" Ron muttered back.

"There's always more."


	4. A kiss

Chapter Four

--------------------

Next period, Hermione was off to Arithmancy. Being Hermione, she had signed up for nearly all the NEWT classes. Ron sighed as he watched her go, wondering if she was going to have time for him this year, either.

He turned back to the common room. He was going to have to talk to Seamus. If Hermione got wind of any rumors flying about concerning herself and him, she would have his head. And then, of course, the rumors would never come true. That's why you're not supposed to tell people what you wish for on your birthday cake, thought Ron idly. He wished he'd known his schedule the night before, or he could have still been sleeping right now.

He climbed back through the portrait hole. There was no sign of Seamus, so Ron threw himself in a chair near where Harry and Lucia sat on the hearth rug.

"Harry," said Ron, "I think you were right, what you said the other day.

"About what?

"Hermione.

"Oh, that," Harry blushed slightly. His jaw hardened almost imperceptibly. But Ron had known Harry for six years.

"Don't worry," said Ron. "I'm not going to do anything about it." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. He had realized that Harry must fancy Hermione.

Harry looked up quickly. "Why not?" he asked innocently enough, though his cheeks were red.

"Never mind," said Ron irritably. "Just forget I said anything, okay? And we'll forget what you said, too.

"Fine," said Harry.

"So," said Ron, looking to change the subject, "Snape didn't show, eh?

"Hermione told you?" said Lucia suddenly. Through Ron and Harry's exchange, she had been staring into the ice-flames of the cooling fire.

Ron nodded.

"What else did she tell you?

"Nothing.

"Good. It's not something to be gossiped about.

"It will be," said Harry quietly.

"What will be?" asked Ron.

"You'll hear it soon enough," said Lucia.

"Look," said Harry, "I'm going to go up and see if I can't get some more sleep before lunch. I'll see you guys later.

As he vanished up the staircase, Ron frowned and said, "But he doesn't sleep.

Lucia shrugged. "Doesn't seem to want to be around you, does he?

Ron stared at her. "Careful, I don't think you were blunt enough. Be less subtle next time.

"You know," she said, "you really suck at sarcasm. And I should know, I'm the master.

Ron snorted and sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. If Harry was going to continue being difficult, he didn't know how much longer he could put up with it before he, too, snapped. Not that that would be such a bad thing. Harry could use a good telling off. But even as he thought this, Ron could feel himself calming down and starting to forgive the other boy. No matter how he tried, Ron could not stay angry with Harry.

---------------------------------------------------------

Harry threw himself down on his bed, battling jealousy and desire. He groaned. Ron and Hermione. Why did it have to be like this? And why had Ron suddenly decided to drop the subject? Did he suspect something?

Harry felt hot all over. He got up and washed his face in the sink of the dormitory W.C. The icy water did him little good. He stared at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were bright with an unhealthy, feverish colour, his green eyes unnaturally bright. And they were right, he was getting thin. His cheeks were growing hollow and there were bruise-colored bags under his eyes. Suddenly he was reminded of the way Sirius had looked after being in Azkaban for twelve years. He remembered, too, how he, Harry, had intended to kill him. He had thought about it often, how ironic it was that only a few years later he had again intended to kill- this time for Sirius's sake.

Harry shook his head quickly, hoping to drive away thoughts of Sirius. But it did no good, for whatever he thought about was equally depressing. He felt that knot of panic and hopelessness, of unbearable and overwhelming pain that was always somewhere in his chest start to rise like bile and grow. His breath came quick and shallow. He leaned over the sink, gripping his hair in his fists. He needed to get a hold of himself, he knew.

He would be saved once he'd had his first lesson. Then he could think about school work instead. He should have taken more courses so he could work all the time like Hermione.

Harry straightened up and took a deep breath. He would keep going, simply because he had to. There was no alternative. But it was hard.

------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Harry was still upstairs when Hermione came back from class. She joined Ron and Lucia by the fire. Lucia, sensing their looks, left them alone to talk.

"So what did you want to tell me before?" Ron began.

Hermione glanced around the room once more, making sure Lucia was well out of hearing. She leaned over the arm of her chair so that she could lower her voice, just in case. "Lucia and Draco had a fight. I don't know what it means, but it had to do with their parents, which is the only reason it's any of our business.

"Their father's escaped, hasn't he?

Hermione nodded. "A while ago. Sometimes it scares me how little you pay attention, Ron.

"I pay attention to what you tell me.

Hermione blushed slightly from the way he was looking at her. She settled back down into her armchair and looked into the fire.

"We're talking about Harry," she said.

"Of course we are," said Ron, with a hint of bitterness. "Do we ever talk about anything else?

"What else is there to talk about, Ron? He's in danger; how could we justify spending our time on anything else? What's more important that Harry?

Ron glared at her, refusing to accept her dismissal of him. She didn't know what to do; she couldn't spell it out for him any further.

"He likes you, you know," said Ron suddenly.

"He does not," said Hermione.

"I don't mind, you know. You can go out with him if you want.

"No, I couldn't. Even if I did want to, which I don't.

Ron was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Hermione-

She stood up and faced him. "Ron," she said, "I don't know how I can make this anymore clear to you! I know you like me, okay? I know. And I like you. But we can't right now. We just can't.

"Why not?" Ron was on his feet, too. He had grabbed her shoulders.

Hermione opened her mouth, then shut it again. Ron wouldn't believe her if she told him. Besides, who was she to give away Harry's dirty little secret? So she retraced her steps, hoping Ron would follow.

"Because you were right," Hermione said. "He does like me. And I can't do that to him.

But then Ron kissed her.

Hermione took a step back, breaking away from him. "Oh, Ron...." She looked about her desperately. "But we can't tell Harry, alright? He can't know.

Ron nodded, but he didn't seem to be listening. He had stepped forward again and now put his hands in her hair. She took a deep, shuddering breath that was almost a sob, and reached up to kiss him.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Do you think they know they're snogging in the middle of the common room?" Lucia said to Parvati Patil.

Parvati was filing her nails. "All I can tell you is it's about time for the two of them. God, even my sister saw it coming and that was two years ago.

"And Harry's the odd man out, is he?

"Until he finally comes around to Ginny Weasley.

"So you've got it all figured out, have you?

"Of course." Parvati blew on her nails, smiling at Ron and Hermione. "People should just come to me earlier. It would save them a lot of running around after people they won't work with. I mean, look at them, aren't they cute together? And they wasted two years. It's tragic, really." She shook her head.

"So," Lucia said with the trademark Malfoy sneer, "who do you have picked out for me?

Parvati wasn't looking at her. "I would say Dean Thomas. Ginny Weasley just broke his heart. You to would do well together.

Lucia laughed. "I don't think so.

"Why not? What's wrong with him?

"He hasn't got tits, that's what's wrong with him.

Parvati nearly jumped out of her seat. "What are you, a lezzie?

"Fraid so.

"And you're in our dormitory. How disgusting.

"Right. I really want to look at your skinny arse. Don't flatter yourself.

Parvati huffed and walked away. Lucia sighed.

---------------------------------------------------------------- 

Hermione pulled away again, coming to her senses. "Ron, people are looking.

"Let them look.

"If Harry finds out-

"Fine. I think it's too late, though.

She looked around again. The common room was almost empty, as most students had class. Of the few left, only several people had noticed them. Out of these, Hermione judged only Parvati and Lucia to be likely to tell Harry. She could go and talk to them herself. "I think we'll be ok," she said, calming down a bit. "It's time for lunch, though. You should go get Harry.

Ron sighed. "Alright. Can we talk tonight?

"We can do more than talk, I should think.

Ron grinned, but Hermione gave him a little shove to keep him from kissing her again. There would be time for all of that later. There would be time... Hermione couldn't help beaming to herself as she watched Ron walk reluctantly up to the dormitories.


	5. Tea

(A/N: made a change, but no one will notice because who's been reading this? Anyways, sorry if I misspell McGonagall a dozen different ways.) 

Chapter Five

-------------------

"Harry," said Ginny at lunch when at last she found him, "People want to know if you're having the DA this year."

Hermione moved so Ginny could sit next to her, across from Harry.

"I don't see the point," said Harry. "Didn't do Susan Bones much good, did it?"

"But the point was never to teach us to defeat an army of Death Eaters," said Ginny. She was damned if she was going to let him blame himself for this one. "Besides, you heard what Smith said, she put up a good fight."

"So did my parents," said Harry, in what he must have thought to be a tone that would end the conversation. But Ginny was not so easily put off.

"It does make a difference," she said. "They killed, what was it, six Death Eaters? Because of the things you taught her, You-Know-Who's lost six of his followers. That counts for something."

Harry looked away.

Hermione cut in. "Just think about it, Harry. Ginny, stop pushing him."

"Alright," said Ginny. "Let's change the subject. Who's quidditch captain this year?"

"Er, I am," said Ron uncomfortably, glancing at Harry. "I talked to McGonagall. You're a chaser, and I'm still keeper. We'll have to have try-outs again, though, since that's the whole team."

"Harry," said Ginny, turning to him, "You're not still banned?"

"I don't know."

"You should find out," said Ron. "We could use you."

"I can't imagine that Umbridge's ban would still hold," said Hermione. "It was so obvious that the only reason she was doing it was to keep Malfoy on her side."

Lucia glanced up from her meager plate of food. "Hmm?"

"Oh," said Hermione, "Sorry, I was talking about Draco."

Lucia nodded.

"Anyways," continued Hermione, "the only reason I can see for Harry not to play quidditch is if Dumbledore wants him to.... focus on other things."

Harry, Ron and Ginny stared at her.

"You're not serious," said Harry "You don't really think he'd keep me from playing quidditch! Would he?"

"That would be terrible," said Ron. "For Harry and for us. We'd lose every game."

"You won the Cup last year without him," said Hermione, "and I hardly think living without quidditch is going to kill anyone."

"It would kill me," said Harry. "It really would."

"_Why_?" Hermione asked, exasperated.

"Because if I can play quidditch, at least I'll have something to distract me..."

"That's exactly the point," said Hermione. "I can't think of a worse time for you to be distracted from what you have to do."

"What I have to do..." Harry echoed faintly. "And just what is that, exactly?"

"Drop it, Hermione," warned Ron.

"No, I won't," said Hermione. "Harry, it's your war. You know that. But you're not keeping up with the news; you're not taking care of yourself; you haven't even asked yet about your Defense Against the Dark Arts class, which you know is the most important-"

"Shut up," said Harry suddenly. "I really don't want to hear it, okay?"

Hermione sighed and her expression softened. "But you need to hear it," she said. "The sooner you face up to it, the sooner it'll all be over."

"It's _not_ my war," Harry muttered.

"Oh really?" said Ginny, having heard quite enough. "That's not how I hear it."

Harry glared at her. "Who told you?" he demanded.

"Uh oh," said Lucia.

Harry turned on her. "You told her?"

"She asked." Lucia spread her hands in a helpless gesture. "How was I supposed to know you weren't telling people?"

"How did you even know?"

"My father's Lucius Malfoy. I've always known."

Ron cleared his throat loudly. "Care to tell us what you're all talking about?"

"You haven't told them," Harry said to Ginny. "I'm surprised."

"Which proves you could have told me in the first place." Ginny crossed her arms and stuck out her chin defiantly.

"Told us _what_?" asked Hermione.

Harry just shook his head.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Professor McGonagall sought Harry out after the meal, intercepting him on his way out of the hall.

"Potter, there are some things we need to discuss."

By now, Harry was used to her calling him into her office, and had rather expected it now. But he still squirmed at the stern look she always wore. It was easy to forget that he wasn't a frightened first-year anymore.

In her office, McGonagall told him to sit down. She herself remained standing, which for some reason struck Harry as ominous.

"You have surely noticed, Potter," said she, "that your schedule lists no Defense Against the Dark Arts class for you. This is because you are to be given private lessons. The Headmaster has informed me that you are... well aware of the situation. Surely you understand, then, the necessity for providing you with extra training."

She gave Harry a look that asked for confirmation. He nodded.

"Professor Moon will be instructing you privately on Friday evenings. You may note that the timing is to allow you to recooperate over the weekend." She looked at him significantly.

Vigorous training on Friday nights.... was she mad? "But," he said "Professor, what about quidditch?"

"You may be up for it, and you may not. The fact is that you will go through this training. If you can play quidditch afterward, that's your choice."

"So I take it I'm not banned?"

"Heavens no, Potter! That awful woman is gone, along with all of her silly rules."

"Excuse me, Professor, but what does Fudge say about that?"

She paused. "Currently the Minister is following Professor Dumbledore again, which means that he looks the other way when it comes to this school. And from the sound of what Professor Moon has in store for you, I would pray it stays that way if I were you."

"Er, and what exactly does she have in store for me, Professor?"

"It's all very confidential; I know almost nothing about it. Even if I did, I would not be at liberty to divulge information to you until you are faced with it. My understanding is that she has a very... contraversial approach to training, and she will need your full cooperation. Right now that means that whatever she tells you supercedes anyone else's orders except the Headmaster's. If she tells you to stop eating, you do it. If she tells you to make friends with Vincent Crabbe, you do it. If she tells you not to go to your regular lessons, you do it. Is that clear?"

"She says 'Jump' and I say 'How high?'"

"Exactly."

"How do I know I can trust her?"

"You leave that to the Headmaster."

"Er.... sorry, Professor, but that hasn't exactly worked out so well for me in the past."

McGonagall sighed. "Be that as it may, Potter, you're going to have to trust him once again. There is simply no other choice. And I hate to do it, but if you refuse to cooperate I'll have to take points from Gryffindor. Is _that_ clear?"

"Yes, Professor. May I go now?"

"I don't see why not. Oh, and Potter, I am well aware that I cannot keep you from repeating this conversation to Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, but do try to keep it to yourself as much as you can. The less of this that gets out, the better."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry had no more classes that day, as he was only taking five. After he emerged from McGonagall's office, he took the moment alone and decided to go to see Hagrid. He was pleased to see his friend returning from the Forbidden Forest, Fang trotting behind him like a lap dog.

"Harry!" boomed Hagrid, "Good ter see yeh. Been wonderin' how you was gettin' on."

"I'll live," said Harry. "How're you?"

"Alrigh', alrigh'." He peered down at Harry as he opened his door. "No Ron 'n' Hermione today?"

"Yeah, we might be in a fight, I don't know." As the words left him, Harry wondered why he'd said it. He supposed it was true; they weren't likely to be happy with him for keeping the prophecy from them. But what business was it of theirs anyway?

"A fight? You lot? Never."

If Harry didn't know Hagrid better, he could've sworn the man was being sarcastic. After all, Hermione and Ron were always bickering, there was that long period in third year when Harry and Ron had refused to speak to her at all, then in fourth year he could have murdered Ron over the whole Goblet of Fire incident. On the whole, Harry thought that relations between the three of them had always been somewhat turbulent. Although, now that he thought about it, it was only last year that he was the one fighting the other two. And even his angry outbursts had never turned into anything big. Ron and Hermione seemed quite unaffected by his temper, and never responded in kind. When they were together, that was. Separately they would never forgive him for shouting...

"Harry, did yeh want ter come inside?"

Harry realized that while he had been lost in his thoughts he was still standing in Hagrid's doorway, with Hagrid looking down at him with concern.

"Yeh sure you're alrigh', Harry?"

"No," said Harry slowly, "I'm not sure at all. I'm sorry, I..." Harry had no idea what he had intended to say. His brain seemed not to be functioning properly. He trailed off as he sat down at Hagrid's table.

"Yer look tired ter me." Hagrid began going about making tea.

"I am tired, Hagrid."

"Not been sleepin, have yeh?"

"No. And when I do..."

"Yeh get nigh'mares."

"How'd you know?"

"Me dad." Hagrid's voice was suddenly gruffer than usual.

"Right," said Harry. He hadn't forgotten that Hagrid had lost his father, but until now he had never thought losing Sirius was comparable. But Sirius was the closest thing to family Harry had ever known.

Feeling a certain constriction in his chest and burning in his eyes, Harry said chokingly to Hagrid that he thought he'd better go. And he did, before the man could even speak a word of protest.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Ron set off with Hermione down the sloping lawns towards Hagrid's cabin. No sooner had they left they stepped out of the great front doors and into the hot sun, however, then he saw Harry coming up towards them. He was walking with his head down, watching his feet, and he didn't see them. Ron looked at Hermione, and they silently agreed to approach him.

The two met up with Harry halfway across the distance to Hagrid's hut. He still didn't seem to notice them, so Ron caught him by the arm as he passed.

"Hey, Harry, you okay?" he asked.

Harry jumped and flinched oddly at Ron's touch. As he raised his face to meet Ron's eyes, he revealed red eyes and a lower lip bitten stubbornly into place.

"Harry..." said Hermione. She glanced at Ron again, who nodded slightly. Care of Magical Creatures could wait.

They led Harry back up to the castle, one on either side of him like a bodyguard. He shook slightly, silently.

Hermione pulled the others into an empty room off the entrance hall, the same one where first years waited before the sorting on their first evening at Hogwarts.

Harry was still biting his lip, so hard he had drawn blood.

"It's okay, Luv," said Hermione softly. She reached up and removed Harry's glasses from his face. "Cry if you want."

Harry half-fell to the floor and let loose, his face in his hands, sobs racking his body.

Ron and Hermione knelt beside him cautiously. Ron didn't know what to do. He had never seen Harry weep before, and couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anyone do it this passionately. He tried to remember what Harry had done those nights in their first year when Ron would get tearful from homesickness. Harry had just let him sit on his bed, and that had been enough, as far as Ron's memory went. Ron looked over at Hermione, seeking some clue of what he should do. But she looked just as helpless as he. She was watching Harry with a sad frown on her face.

Harry started to keen, hardly breathing between howls of misery. Ron felt tears well up in his own chest.

"Breathe, Luv," said Hermione suddenly to Harry.

Harry did so obediently, and eventually his sobbing had reduced to quiet tears and sniffles. He took his face from his hands but drew his knees up and rested his head against them.

Tentatively, Hermione reached out and gently pushed a hand against his hair in a gesture that seemed helpless, a sort of failed attempt at intimacy.

"Want to tell us what this is about?" she asked.

Ron looked at her sharply, but her attention was on Harry.

After a moment, Harry muttered, "It's nothing."

Ron laughed. "It's not nothing."

Harry sighed and lifted his head. "It's been months," he said, "But..."

"You loved him," said Hermione. "Of course you're still sad."

That was apparently too much for Harry, because he started sobbing again. This time Ron couldn't hold back his own tears, though he covered his mouth with both hands.

When Harry was too exhausted to cry anymore, his breathing slowly returned to normal and he finally lifted his head once more. He looked at Ron and sniffed, then asked scratchily, "Why are you crying?"

"Can't help it," said Ron brokenly. "I've just never seen you cry before."

Hermione sniffed and wiped her eyes, but she was on the whole very composed.

"I'm sorry," said Harry.

"Don't be," said Ron.

"I just... can't stand it," said Harry slowly.

"We know," said Hermione. "But you'll be okay."

Harry shook his head.

(A/N: And sorry for Hagrid's accent.) 


	6. Firewhiskey

Chapter six

-----------

Harry dearly wished he hadn't fallen to pieces like that in front of Ron and Hermione. Or, more accurately, he wished they hadn't been there when he went to pieces, as was inevitable. But they had skived off class just to humiliate him. Of course, they probably though they were helping. But if they really wanted to help, why hadn't one of them at least held his hand or wiped the tears from his face and whispered into his ear, like he'd done for Ron so long ago?

For the rest of the day, Harry resolutely hated both of them.

That night, he sat up again with Neville. He reckoned he was now getting more calories from chocolate frogs than anything else, and said as much to Neville.

"Really?" said the other boy, "I've been eating more. I can't stop, actually. I gained so much weight over the summer. Didn't you notice?"

"Er, no. But I didn't notice how much weight I'd lost, either."

"Hm. Did I tell you I saw Cho Chang today?"

"No."

"She's Head Girl now, did you know? Anyways, she asked about you. Wanted to know if you were okay."

Harry swallowed. "What did you tell her?"

"Er, I said you didn't want to talk to her. Was that okay?"

Harry grinned in the dark. "Yeah. I'm pretty much through with her."

"That's what I thought. She was the one who brought that girl into the DA. The one who ratted us out."

"Stupid bitch," said Harry. "It's her fault Dumbledore had to leave."

"Have you talked to Dumbledore yet this year?"

"No."

"Don't you usually talk to him a lot? What did he say to you over the summer?"

"Nothing. He didn't write me at all," Harry lied. In reality he had put the headmaster's letters away without opening them. He was still very angry.

"You'd think he'd want to talk to you," said Neville, "considering you're the one who-"

"Shut up, Neville."

The boy obeyed. Harry knew he'd hurt his feelings, but didn't care.

"I'm going downstairs," said Harry suddenly. He wanted very much to be alone at the moment, and there was no doing that here.

So Harry took off down to the common room, intending to lose himself in staring at the fire.

But when he got to the bottom of the stairs he realized someone was already there. He made out Lucia's fine face in the light from the fire. She turned to look as he approached.

"Hey, Harry."

"Hi."

"Insomnia?"

"Oh no," said Harry as he sat next to her, "I just don't like to be too rested for lessons, you know? Kind of takes the challenge out of it."

She grinned. They sat in quiet for a time, as they had all day, it seemed. Finally, Lucia said, "Aren't you ever going to ask me about this morning?"

"I thought I'd give you the choice if you want to tell me."

She looked at him. "But don't you want to know?"

He shrugged. "It's your business. If you want to tell me, fine. If you don't, that's fine, too."

She sighed. "Well, it's well past midnight and we've still got a ways to go till morning. I've got some Firewhiskey," Here she took a bottle from her pocket, "and the fire's going nicely. I'd say it's story-telling time, if ever there was one."

Harry wasn't eager to tell stories, but he did feel that perhaps a bit of Firewhiskey was just what he really needed.

After they had put a good dent in the whiskey, Lucia said, "You'll want to know why Draco hates me so much."

"Cause you're not a Death Eater."

"Neither is he."

"Sorry, I meant Ampist. And are you sure?"

"No, I'm not. But I would be surprised. Anyways, he always hated me. Because Father always liked me best. I was his favorite, and Draco was Mother's."

"Okay, the fight is starting to make sense now."

"Ha. You don't know the half of it. What he said to me... He meant it literally."

"Meant what literally?"

"I did use to do that."

"Do what?"

"For my father. He made me do it, of course, but I didn't mind. What did I know? I was a kid."

"What are you talking about?"

She had to drink about half the bottle of Firewhiskey before she could answer.

"He use to have me suck him off."

"..... Your father?"

"Yes."

"Oh my God.... That's...."

"It's over. It doesn't matter anymore. He's just fucked up, that's all. Anyways, that's what Draco meant."

"I can't believe he did that to you."

"Well he did, so shut up about it already."

"I'm going to kill him."

"No, you're going to leave that to me. That's why I'm coming with you, when you go to kill Tom. I'll be there, and I'll find Father, and I'll kill him."

There was a long pause.

"No wonder you're a lesbian," said Harry.

Suddenly, Lucia laughed. "Yeah, no wonder. God, though, it was so long ago. I haven't seen any of them since I was eleven. I mean, obviously now I've seen Draco-"

"And gotten duffed up by Draco..."

"Yes, that too. Though I'd hardly call that a duffing up. It was just a push."

"Right." By this time, they had between them finished off the whiskey, and Harry was feeling distinctly drunk.

"So , Harry Potter. What do you think now?"

"Of what?"

"Me. Am I trustworthy?"

"How should I know?"

She sighed and changed the subject. "So, are you going to tell me about your friend Ron?"

Harry froze. "What? Why?"

She laughed. "I notice things, Mr. Potter. There's something between you two, isn't there?"

"If there was," said Harry slowly, "I wouldn't be too likely to tell you about it, would I?"

"Right. You can't trust me."

"Can't trust anyone. Not right now, anyways."

"Relax, Tom's not going to get you here. Or at least, by the time he does you'll be ready for him. And you'll kill him."

Harry sighed. "Today he and Hermione saw me cry."

"I take you mean Ron, not Tom," she said. "But what's the big deal?"

"It was terrible," said Harry. "They didn't know what to do."

"Oh, one of those. What'd they do, just stand there staring?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"People suck."

"Yes, they do."

-----------------------------------------------------

The following morning found Harry and Lucia sleeping curled up in front of the common room fire.

"Harry," said Hermione as she shook him awake. "Harry, wake up. Something terrible's happened."

"I don't want to know," muttered the boy, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut.

She sighed. "Well, you're going to have to get up anyway, because you're sleeping on the floor of the common room- did you know?"

He sat up slowly, one hand to his head.

"Bit of a hangover?" asked Hermione angrily. She didn't see why Harry needed to be drinking on top of everything else.

Harry winced. "Ow, could you keep it down?"

"No. Harry, the queen's dead."

"What queen?"

"What queen? The queen! Elizabeth the second has been killed!"

Harry sat still for a moment. "Where are my glasses?"

Hermione retrieved them from where they lay by his feet, performed a quick and silent reparation spell to fix the broken glass where he must have kicked them in the night, and handed them over.

Once his glasses were securely on his face, Harry said, "Who did it?"

"I don't know, some terrorist revolutionary group. The muggles have their own wars brewing."

"You think it might have something to do with Voldemort?"

"I don't know, Harry. But there are riots everywhere. Already eleven people have been killed in the streets."

"What does that have to do with me?"

Hermione could have slapped him. Here he was, pretending that muggle lives meant nothing to him. She'd thought he would be the one friend she had who would understand what it meant for the queen to die. She thought he'd be as affected as she was. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Didn't it even occur to him that his family was in danger? And even if he didn't care about them, what about _her_ parents? Did he only think of himself?

"What?" he said finally, as she stared at him, the heat rising in her cheeks.

"You're right," she said, "I shouldn't bother you with silly muggle things. After all, they are just muggles. Who cares if they all die, right?"

He didn't even answer, just looked angrily back at her. She stood up and left.

----------------------------------------------

"Jesus Christ, what was that about?" asked Lucia, sitting up and rubbing her head.

"Something about the queen," said Harry wearily. "God, my head hurts."

"That can happen with Firewhiskey," said Ginny's voice from behind him.

"Oh, good, someone else to tell me off," said Harry.

"I just came to tell you that class starts in about fifteen minutes."

"I haven't got anything first."

"I know. If you did, you'd have missed it."

"Oh."

"You want me to tell the teacher you're terribly sorry but you can't make it because you spent last night getting soused?"

"Oh shut up!"

"Snape's back, by the way. At least, he was at breakfast. He looks a bit peaky, but then again he's Snape."

"Right," said Harry, trying to stand. Ginny held out an arm and steadied him.

"Thanks," he muttered.

Lucia stood up beside him and tried to straighten her dressing gown. "Guess we'd better get dressed, then, eh?"

"I suppose so. What do I have, anyway?"

"Transfiguration," said Ginny. "Won't that be fun? I had it yesterday, and I'll tell you, McGonagall's not in a good mood."

Harry groaned, and made his way to the dormitories.

---------------------------------------------------

Ron kept looking at his watch. "Is he really going to be late for his first class of the year?"

Hermione sniffed disdainfully. "I really couldn't care less."

"You're really upset at him, aren't you?"

"Where'd you get that idea?"

Ron said nothing. He didn't know why Harry and Hermione were quarrelling, but he thought it best not to pry. He didn't want to do or say anything stupid that might jeopardize his relationship with Hermione. Especially after last night. They'd found a wonderful little empty classroom in Gryffindor tower where they could be alone, and now Ron could still taste her tongue. As far as he was concerned, if she wanted to fight with Harry, Ron for one was not going to object. In fact, if she wanted to burn the school down Ron probably wouldn't object.

"Why didn't he sign up for Care of Magical Creatures, anyways?" asked Ron idly, trying to make conversation.

"He did," said Hermione. "They just didn't give it to him. I expect they want him to concentrate on DADA. Then again, perhaps he's having a row with Hagrid."

"A row with Hagrid? I don't know if anyone has ever had a row with Hagrid, Hermione. I don't even think it's possible. Certainly not with Harry."

"Well, Harry is being awfully difficult, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, but he has got a lot to deal with, you know." After he said it, Ron bit his lip, hoping she wouldn't get angry.

"That's no excuse for the way he's behaving," was all she said.

Harry rushed in just then, glanced around the room, and sat by himself in the back, despite Ron's obvious gestures to the seat next to himself and Hermione. Then Professor McGonagall began to speak, and class was underway.

--------------------------------------------

Over breakfast the next day Hermione glanced at her Daily Prophet and said, "Oh look, the latest scandal- 'Harry Potter inherits from parents' slayer.'"

"I take it they mean Sirius?" asked Ron, glancing at Harry who was at the other end of the table with Lucia. "He didn't tell me he'd gotten anything."

"He didn't tell me, either. But Dumbledore wrote me that he'd told Harry about it over the summer."

"Good of Harry to keep us informed, eh?"

"Actually," said Hermione, "I'm not entirely sure he's even been reading Dumbledore's letters."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, he's angry at Dumbledore, and he doesn't seem to care much about anything. I could be wrong, of course, but I wouldn't bet my life on Harry having opened Dumbledore's letters."

"So how much did he get?"

"It doesn't say. All Sirius's stuff, though, which means everything the Black family had..."

Ron whistled. "So he's got Grimmauld place, has he?"

"Apparently so."

"And a fortune besides. A second fortune, no less. Remember how much his parents left him?"

"No, I never asked."

"Well, neither did I, but it was enough to make him rich."

"Ron, stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Obsessing over money. You always do that, you know. It gets irritating, and it isn't healthy."

"You obsess about money, too, if you had as little of it as I do. D'you know Ginny and I aren't even paying this year? We can't afford to go here, but Dumbledore gave us scholarships."

"... I'm sorry, Ron. But it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed," said Ron hotly, "I just... I don't know. I guess I just wish we had more money, that's all."

"You will, I expect. After this war's over."

"Yeah, maybe Harry'll leave me all his loot when he snuffs it."

"That's not funny at all." Hermione's voice was cold, and she didn't speak for the rest of the meal.

----------------------------------------------------

Harry waited for Professor Moon outside her office. It was Friday evening, and time for his first lesson with her. He'd brought nothing but his wand, as she had requested no text to go along with her course.

At exactly five minutes after the appointed time, Moon's door opened and she appeared before Harry, wearing her customary green robes, her hair up and a liberal dose of makeup on her youthful face. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen a Hogwarts teacher wearing muggle makeup before.

"Mr. Potter, I see," she said, in her deep, Welsh voice, "Come in."

He nodded and stepped past her into the familiar office. She kept it bare, the walls empty and the desk piled with nothing but papers.

Moon shut the door and walked over to her desk. She opened the top drawer, rummaged around, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She packed them against her hand, pulled one out, and lit up right there, using a tiny muggle lighter from her pocket.

Harry was astonished. Cigarettes were scarce at Hogwarts, even among the students. It was a rare kid who, besides being muggle-born, was addicted enough at age eleven to bring their own fags to school.

Moon took a few long drags and considered Harry. After a moment she flicked the ash off the end of her cigarette in a quick, elegant motion, and said, "Mr. Potter, you know why you are here, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Alright, then. There are some things I should tell you before we begin. First of all, I am not here to teach you Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm here to train you for battle."

Harry shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

"Secondly, you are to do everything I tell you, even if you don't understand it. Some of the things I will be teaching you are very abstract and advanced, and all of them are very different from everything you've been taught so far. Which brings me to my next point. You are not to discuss what goes on in here with anyone. I don't care how well you know the person or how harmless what you say may seem to be. I need complete silence from you. Understand?"

"Yes," said Harry. Hadn't he already been through this with McGonagall?

Moon looked at him critically as she took another drag on her cigarette.

Suddenly, she said, "Give me your wand."

"What? Why?" He was forgetting to be respectful, but he didn't care.

"Mr. Potter." She held out her hand.

Reluctantly, he handed it over. She took it in her left hand, and promptly snapped it between her fingers.

Harry gasped, horrified, automatically reaching out as if he could save his precious holly-and-phoenix feather.

"See how dependant you are on your wand?" she said calmly, showing him the two broken halves of wood. Then she flicked her wrist and opened her palm to reveal the wand, this time whole.

Harry stared.

She didn't give it back to him, though. "Now," she said, "supposing I had broke it, what would you have done?"

"I don't know," said Harry.

"You wouldn't have done anything," she said. "Right now you are completely disarmed. You are helpless. See how easily you can be defeated?"

She handed his wand back to him. "That's lesson number one. Wandless magic is always preferable. You can't rely on having it with you all the time, that's just asking for trouble. Lesson number two- you don't need a wand."

"What did you do just now?" asked Harry, still feeling dazed and grateful to have the warm solidity of his wand back in his hand.

"Nothing but a parlour trick, Mr. Potter. There's another lesson- don't rely on your eyes, they will betray you." She took another drag and began pacing back and forth in front of him. "Now, none of what I will be teaching you here will require a wand. Next time, leave it behind in Gryffindor tower. And don't think you need it- that's the first mistake, and the first step to dependence. You've been using your wand like a crutch. But you've shown you do your most powerful magic without it already, haven't you? You didn't have a wand with you when you threw off the Killing Curse. Consider that. There's your homework for next time. You may go."

Harry had only been there for about ten minutes, but he didn't hesitate to obey. There was something odd about Professor Moon.

-----------------------------------------------------------

At the moment, Harry had managed to offend everyone but Lucia, so it was with her that he had spent these past few days and nights. He'd also stopped eating altogether, as Hermione wasn't there to watch him and Lucia was a not-really-recovering anorexic. Ron kept trying to smile or wave to Harry, but Harry tried not to even look at him. Except, of course, in the small hours of the morning when he and Lucia had done talking and gone their separate ways in the interest of avoiding being woken up by the others, when Harry stood for hours by Ron's bed, listening to him breathe long after the moon had set.

So the next morning, when Gryffindor tryouts were to take place, Harry walked alone out the pitch. Lucia was petrified of heights and though sports stupid anyways, so she stayed behind. The rest of the team and potential team were already assembled when Harry arrived.

"Hey mate," said Ron, as if they'd been speaking all week.

Harry gulped and avoided his eyes. "Hullo, Ron. Any good prospects?"

Ron considered, and said, "There's a second year girl was really disappointed to get into Gryffindor on account of she's a seeker. I told her to relax, considering you'll be gone in a few years. But she looks as if she'd make a decent chaser."

Ginny approached them then. "So," she said, "You two friends again?"

"Again?" said Ron. "That's just Hermione who's not talking to Harry."

"Oh, right," said Ginny, giving a subtle little roll of her eyes that Ron seemed not to catch.

"You seem to be speaking to me," said Harry, "Does that mean I'm forgiven for getting drunk?"

"It wasn't that you got drunk," she said, "it was just that I wouldn't have minded a bit of Firewhiskey myself."

"Ooh," said Ron, grinning, "She's _jealous_."

Ginny tossed her head. "I am jealous. Lucky Harry gets to sit around with Lucia all day! She's only the most gorgeous girl in school."

Harry stifled an ironic laugh.

"Come off it," said Ron to Ginny, "You're not a les and you know it."

Ginny ignored him.

"Er," said Ron to Harry, as he looked around at the small crowd mulling about in the heat. "Think I should start things up, then?"

"Why not?" said Harry. He felt only a touch of jealousy towards Ron for being named captain. Ron deserved it and would have more time for it. Besides, Harry was a shaky leader- he was moody, and public opinion about him changed frequently and dramatically, denying him any sort of authority. Which was why he now counted it a blessing that he wasn't a Prefect like the others.

"Oy," said Ron to the group. "Listen up!" Everyone fell silent. "Right, then. Let's get started. You're here for Gryffindor quidditch try-outs. Anyone who's really mixed up and thought they were at Latin club or something should take this opportunity to bugger off." They all laughed appreciatively. "Anyways, the positions open, in case you don't know, are for two chasers and two beaters. Now, who wants to go first?"

Harry was surprised and impressed at Ron's organisational skills. It seemed Ron had much more confidence without his brothers around. In two hours time, they saw twelve students fly, most of whom were unimpressive, one of whom fell off his broom three times, and one of whom turned out to be a first year who had snuck a broom from the school shed. There were a few decent players. Ron was right about the second year girl who wanted to be seeker- she was a good chaser. Collin Creevey turned out to be the best they could do for the other chaser. As far as the beaters went, there were three candidates. One, a fourth year boy built like a rock, was a shoe-in. The other two were a third year muggle-born girl with an astonishing record in cricket, and a boy in Ginny's year who could fly but admitted he was really more of a keeper than a beater.

Ron, Harry and Ginny talked over the choices as they made their way back up to the castle. When at last they were back in the common room, Ron said, "Harry, you'll sit with us at lunch, won't you? Hermione's got to forgive you some time."

"Yeah, sure," said Harry, running his hands through his hair. He would, of course, do nothing of the sort. Whatever Ron said, Hermione wasn't the only problem.

"Feel like a game of chess?" asked Ron tentatively. Harry thought he must look bad, that Ron was being so cautious. Or perhaps it was just experience that made Ron wary.

"No, thanks," said Harry. "I... I think I'll just go upstairs for a while."

"Alright," said Ron, looking at the floor.

(A/N: Is it obvious I'm not interested in quidditch?)


	7. A minor incident

Chapter Seven

-----------------

Harry should have expected Ron to come up at lunchtime, but somehow he hadn't. Somehow he had completely forgotten for a moment where he was. Which was why there was no time to hide the blood or even the broken bit of Sirius's mirror he had used. He was aware of nothing until he heard Ron swear at the door.

Harry jerked his head up to look at his friend from where he sat on his bed, and automatically pressed his wounded forearm to his chest.

"Fuck," Ron said again. "Harry, what did you do?"

Harry couldn't answer. He didn't know himself. He had simply been attracted to the sharpness in the shards of glass that had scattered after he broke the mirror.

Ron didn't wait. He grabbed hold of Harry's left arm and pried it away from Harry's chest. He wiped the blood off with his sleeve and revealed several long, shallow gashes across the pale skin.

"You did this to yourself," said Ron quietly. Harry felt a sudden sting on his arm and realized a tear had fallen from Ron's face right onto one of his cuts.

"Fuck," Ron repeated. "FUCK!" He dropped Harry's arm and punched the bedpost. The bed shook.

There was silence for a minute. Ron stood gripping the bed post, shaking, with his back towards Harry. Harry sat motionless, hardly breathing.

Then they heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and Hermione entered.

"What's all the noise-" she stopped short when she caught sight of Harry. His arm was clutched at his chest again, but there was blood dripping down.

Hermione looked at Ron, then back to Harry again. She came over to Harry and held out her hand. "Let's have a look, then, Luv," she said gently.

Harry didn't move, so she sat beside him and took hold of the injured arm herself. He let her take it, turning away as she examined the damage he had done. He noticed Ron watching with a strange expression on his face.

"You'll be okay," she said. "Let's get you to Madame Pomfrey, then."

"No!" Harry came to life. He pulled away from Hermione and jumped up, clutching his arm once more. "No, you can't. You can't tell them."

"Harry," said Hermione calmly. "You need to get that looked after."

"No." He shook his head. "No, I won't go."

"It's not a choice," said Hermione. "I'm telling you, you're going."

"NO!" He was breathing very quickly, his face hot. "You don't understand!"

"What don't we understand?" said Hermione.

Harry turned to face the wall. He leaned his forehead against it.

"Harry?" she said. "Harry, talk to me or I'll call Professor McGonagall right now!"

"Shut up, Hermione," said Ron. "Just shut up."

Harry closed his eyes, trying to figure out exactly what had happened. All he had done was to draw a piece of glass across his skin...

Silence filled the dormitory for the next minutes, broken only by the sounds of Ron's stifled weeping.

"He's bleeding," said Hermione finally. "We can't just leave him here."

"He's not going to come," said Ron.

"I know. I'm going to get Madame Pomfrey myself. See if you can wrap it up, stop the bleeding."

Harry ground his teeth. He didn't want the bleeding to stop, he didn't want Madame Pomfrey up here, and he certainly didn't want Ron trying to bandage him up.

"Wait," he said.

He heard Hermione pause on her way to the door.

"If she comes up here," Harry continued slowly, "then everyone will know."

"So," said Hermione, "it's either that or come with us now."

Harry took a deep breath. "Fine. I'll come."

He stepped away from the wall. Hermione took his arm and steered him towards the door.

"Ron?' she said. Ron was still standing by the bed. He wiped his face on his sleeve and followed.

As they passed through the common room, Harry hid his left arm in his robes and tried to look normal. Several people asked if he was okay. Hermione told them Harry was just a bit queasy.

In the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey came bustling over at once.

"I was wondering when I would see you here, Mr. Potter. What is it this time?"

Hermione forced Harry's arm out and showed the nurse the gashes along it.

Madame Pomfrey's face hardened. "I see," she said.

"Can you help him?" asked Ron from Harry's other side.

"There is a procedure," she said. "This isn't, after all, uncommon among students. Here, Mr. Potter, why don't you have a seat?"

He sat, as she commanded, on the first bed. The nurse examined the cuts more closely, then called to an assistant to bring her some basic potions.

Harry had never heard of Madame Pomfrey having an assistant before, and he looked up curiously as she approached, carrying a prepared tray of potions and bandages. What he saw made him want to run.

It was Cho Chang. She looked at him and her eyes widened. Then she took in the whole scene and almost dropped the tray.

"Miss Chang," said Madame Pomfrey, "This should be some good practice for you, just some shallow abrasions. Take care of it, will you? I have to go and contact Mr. Potter's head of house."

"What?" cried Harry. "No! You can't!" Panicked, he looked at his friends. Ron looked horrified, Hermione resigned.

"I'm afraid I have to, Mr. Potter," said Madame Pomfrey. "It's standard procedure. She will handle your case from here on out."

"But- can't you make an exception?" said Harry, "I mean, I'm- If the papers hear about this-"

"All the more reason Professor McGonagall should be notified." And with that, Madame Pomfrey bustled away again, pulling the curtains closed around the group so that anyone walking into the hospital wing wouldn't be confronted with The Boy Who Lived in the midst of recovery from what could be construed as a suicide attempt.

Cho took Madame Pomfrey's seat by Harry's bed, and took his arm.

"Harry..." she whispered. "God. I knew you'd take it hard when we broke up, but I didn't think you'd try to kill yourself!"

Harry tried to wrest away his arm from her grasp.

Ron looked like he wanted to slap her. "What?" he hissed, "You think everything's about you, don't you? What are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be off shagging someone or something?"

Cho looked hurt. "I'm training to be a healer," she said. "And Pomfrey might need help this year, with the war."

"I didn't try to kill myself," Harry muttered, as Cho poured a stinging potion on his arm. The cuts started to heal. Cho then wiped off the remaining blood with warm water, and wrapped his whole forearm in bandages, as the area would be particularly sensitive for the next few days.

There was silence until Madame Pomfrey came back with Professor McGonagall.

"I would like to speak with Potter alone, please," said McGonagall. The others fled under her stern gaze.

Harry didn't look at her.

"Harry," she said. Harry didn't think she'd ever used his given name before. "Harry, I'm not going to ask you for reasons, I'm just going to tell you what I tell every student brought to me with this- it's a slippery slope you're heading down, and it's not fun. Nor is it glamorous or special or romantic, and in the end you're only hurting those who care about you. That's what I tell everyone, Harry. And for you I'd like to add my disappointment that you have so little respect for the life that your parents and Godfather died for. I expect better from you." And then she was gone.

Ron and Hermione came back in through the curtains. Hermione sat down heavily in the chair by the bed, and Ron stood awkwardly.

Hermione sighed and began to fish about in her pocket.

"So, you want to tell us what's going on?" she asked.

Harry was about to reply, but then she took from her pocket, of all things, a cigarette.

"What, now you smoke?" he said, astonished.

"How do you think I get through all the work I do?" said Hermione. "I usually only have one a week, but..." She trailed off as she flicked the fag in the air and the tip began to glow. "I charmed them myself," she explained at Harry's look.

"What are they?" asked Ron.

"It's like a pipe," said Hermione, "but rolled up in paper instead." She inhaled and let the smoke slowly out of the corner of her mouth.

"It's weird," said Ron.

"Can I have one?" asked Harry.

Hermione took another from her pocket, lit it, and handed it to him.

Harry took a drag, and when he didn't cough, Hermione said, "You've smoked before, then?"

"I stole a pack when I was ten and learned to smoke before Aunt Petunia took them for herself. God, I forgot how good they were."

"So, what was this about, anyways?" asked Hermione, gesturing towards his arm.

Harry stood abruptly.

"You have to talk to us," said Ron.

"No," said Harry, "I really don't. You just don't understand, either of you."

"Harry, we're your friends," said Hermione.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, right."

"Harry!"

"Come on," said Ron, "We care about you a lot, Harry. We've been good to you. You could at least admit that."

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry. You're right. I just... I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"Just let us help you," said Hermione, "alright?"

Harry nodded absently, bringing his cigarette to his lips.

-------------------------------------------

Lunch was almost over by the time the three friends got back to the Great Hall, but Hermione and Ron made Harry sit down and eat all the same.

Ginny and Lucia were sitting together, complaining about boys. They looked up when Harry sat across from them, Ron and Hermione on either side.

"Heard you were sick," said Ginny.

"I'll live," said Harry.

"Yes, but how long?" Ginny replied.

Harry stared at her. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"'Mione," said Lucia, "You weren't at breakfast this morning so I picked up your _Prophet_ for you." She handed the paper over, as Hermione blushed, having skipped breakfast due to an urgent "talk" with Ron, who had after all been irresistible in his Quidditch robes.

Taking the newspaper, Hermione glanced down. It was folded over so the back page showed. What Hermione saw in the corner made her feel faint. She calmly folded it over, however, and excused herself with a significant look at Ron. She knew Harry would think it odd that they were leaving at such a time. He would no doubt know that something else was going on. But she also knew that he would be glad for their absence, and so wouldn't make a fuss over it.

Once safely in the entrance hall, Hermione held up the newspaper for Ron to see. "They've printed his address," she whispered.

-----------------------------------

The back page of the Prophet was dedicated to a sort of "ask Mssr. Knowledge" format. People usually wrote in with questions like "How does the muggle post work?"; "What's a good spell for keeping the neighbor's cat out of my garden?"; and "What's the traditional gift for the hundred-and-third wedding anniversary?" But this time, someone had asked where The Boy Who Lived actually did his Living.

"Bloody fools!" Hermione said for the thousandth time that afternoon, bringing her fist down against the arm of her chair in the common room. "How many people- _how many_- had to be completely utterly abysmally_ stupid_ for this to happen? Let's see, there was the git who wrote the letter, the prat that screens the letters, the bugger who replies to the letters, the idiot who approved it, the editor-in-chief, and probably about a dozen copy editors.... My God, what were they _thinking_?"

"Hermione, calm down," said Ginny. "You don't what You-Know-Who'll do; for all you know he already knew where Harry lives. Besides, Harry's not even there most of the time."

"That's precisely the point," said Hermione, "and he'll be there even less once it's been blitzed."

"Been what? Hermione, what are you talking about?"

"It's his family. There's always a magical bond between blood relatives, and I'd think Harry's should be even stronger, considering the spell his mother put on him when she died for him."

"She did what, now?" said Ginny.

"She doesn't know, remember," said Ron to Hermione.

"That's why I'm trying to explain it," said Hermione irritably. "Ginny, Harry survived Voldemort's curse because his mother died to save him. That's powerful magic, of the old sort. And now Harry lives with his mother's sister. She should have some protective power as well. You see?"

Ginny nodded. "But... Is that the only reason Harry survived? I always thought it was _him_."

Hermione glanced at Ginny quizzically. "Well, no one's sure, of course..."

"Never mind," said Ginny, shaking her head. "I'm just being stupid."

"So when do you reckon we tell Harry?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I don't know," said Hermione heavily. "Not now, though." She glanced involuntarily towards the spiral staircase. They had charged Neville with watching Harry in the dormitory while they discussed the new development.

"There're some other things as well," said Hermione after a moment. "You know- things we need to talk about without him."

"Yes," said Ron sarcastically, "Because it's been so difficult lately to get him out of our hair."

"Well," said Hermione, "after this, we'll have to practically follow him around, won't we?"

"It won't help," said Ginny. "I told you this might happen, remember? I told you to be careful and watch him."

"We've been trying to watch him," said Ron hotly, "but he makes it so bleeding difficult just to be around him."

"That's the point," said Ginny. "When he starts avoiding you, that's when you get worried! You should have reached out to him before. Now it's too late."

"What d'you mean it's too late?" Hermione demanded.

"I mean he hates you now," said Ginny.

There was silence for a moment.

"Ginny," Ron said. "You can't assume that Harry's going to be exactly like you were when you were slicing and dicing. For one thing, he's about four years older than you were, and well, the situation is just completely different."

"Fine," said Ginny. "But if I were you, I'd leave him up to Lucia."

"What?" said Ron.

"That's the other thing," said Hermione. "Well, one of them. He's been hanging around with her an awful lot lately."

"She is a Gryffindor," said Ginny, "and they get on so well together."

"No, they don't," said Ron.

"They do, though," said Hermione. "They're like twins or something. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were in love."

"In love!" said Ron. "She's a Malfoy."

"Yes," said Hermione. "That's the thing."

"But she's a Gryffindor," said Ginny again, "and she seems really nice."

"I agree with you there," said Hermione, "and I've never seen two people take to each other as quickly as Harry and Lucia. But we can't ignore the fact that her father's tried to kill Harry several times."

"Only twice," said Ginny, grinning.

The others didn't seem to find it funny.

"If he's confiding in her," said Hermione, "that could be a problem. He really shouldn't be confiding in anyone new at the moment, it's just too risky. And with her family... I mean, even if she does hate them, suppose they get information out of her anyways?"

"Okay," said Ginny, "but what are we going to do about it? If you try to tell Harry to stay away from her, or some such nonsense, it'll only push him closer to her. And however says it to him might be injured in the process."

"That's true," Hermione agreed.

"I think we should just be nice to him," said Ron. "He'll come around."

"Are you implying I've been mean to him?" said Hermione indignantly.

"No," said Ron, "But you have been harsh on him. No harsher than he deserves," Ron added at the look on her face, "but maybe we should just go easy on him for a while."

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe. Who knows what he needs?"

"I do," said Ginny quietly.

Ron and Hermione pretended they hadn't heard.

"Item number two," said Hermione, changing the subject, "is the leak. How did Harry's address and schedule get to the papers?"

"The Ministry's got the address," said Ron. "They must have given it out."

Hermione shook her head in disgust. "But why would they do that? I know Fudge is an idiot, but you'd think even he would know better."

"Maybe he's sick of Harry and wants him out of the way," said Ron half-heartedly.

"It didn't have to come from the Ministry," said Ginny. "It could have come from inside Hogwarts. The school knows where Harry lives. And Umbridge was Headmaster last year."

"She shouldn't have had access to the records, though," said Hermione. "She couldn't get into the Head's office, remember? And anyway, that just takes us back to the Ministry again."

Ginny shrugged.

"Maybe," said Ron, "they released it for some reason last year when they hated Harry. Maybe the Prophet had it on file and just pulled it out."

"Maybe," said Hermione.

"What's item number three?" asked Ginny.

"That would be Snape," said Hermione. "Has your mum said anything about it?"

"No," said Ginny, "her letter was just the usual about house-keeping and such."

Ron frowned. "I didn't know she'd written us."

"Oh, yeah," said Ginny. "I wrote her the first day, and forgot to tell you."

"Anyway," said Hermione, "I don't suppose it's really any of our business, but I think he was injured. Which means there was some sort of scuffle or another. I just hope everyone's okay."

"We'd have heard about it if they weren't, would we?" said Ron, sounding worried.

"At this point, I don't know," said Hermione. "I don't think we can be sure of much of anything."


	8. One of my turns

Chapter Eight

-------------------

On Monday, Harry had the joy of NEWT Potions first thing in the morning. He'd spent the rest of the weekend in his dormitory, either Ron or Neville always watching him. It irked him, but they didn't seem to care how much he screamed at them.

Harry followed submissively behind Hermione to the dungeon classroom. Lucia was already there, waiting outside. Harry hadn't seen her since lunch on Saturday, captive as he had been in his room.

"Hello," she said. She looked nervous, probably because Draco was due any minute.

"Hello, Lucia," Hermione returned. Harry muttered a greeting.

They stood in silence. Draco arrived with Pansy Parkinson, but he and Lucia determinedly ignored each other.

At nine o'clock exactly, Snape came swooping down the corridor and opened the door to the classroom.

"Sit," he said, sweeping past the students and stopping at the front of the classroom. The class silently obeyed, Draco and Pansy taking a table in the front row, Ernie MacMillan and Padma Patil a little apart from each other in the middle, and Harry, Hermione, and Lucia sitting together in the back.

Harry had forgotten how angry he was with Snape, but now upon seeing the Potionsmaster he recalled the taunts that in Harry's mind had driven Sirius to leave Headquarters.

"Welcome," said Snape with a sneer that belied any cordiality his word might have inadvertently suggested, "to NEWT Potions. In this class I shall be introducing you to the intricacies of advanced Potion making. It is a demanding subject, and I have no doubt that some of you will not be able to handle it." Snape's black eyes settled on Harry. "However, I expect each of you to give me your best work. This is also an area of study which requires upmost seriousness. We shall be working with highly dangerous substances, and while I would hardly mind if one of you were to be injured by your own foolishness, there are certain messes I do not wish to have to clean up. Therefore there will be no fooling around or joking while you are in this classroom. Is that understood?" Silence greeted him, which he always took for assent. "Very well, then," he continued. "As we are now a class behind, we must get started. I suggest you pay attention." He waved his wand to make appear on the board the steps to an especially powerful calming elixir.

The class was different from Harry's previous experience with Potions. For one thing, Snape continued to ignore Harry, though this time Harry was trying to pick a fight. He dropped things and apoligised annoyingly, hoping Snape would snap, but the Potionsmaster didn't so much as look at him. Also, there was an odd tension between Snape and Draco Malfoy. In fact, by the end of the lesson (which was twice as long as usual to make up for the missed class), Slytherin was down twenty house points. Then there was the surprising fact that Lucia was amazing at Potions, even outshining Hermione in the speed and accuracy with which she produced each perfect concoction.

At the end of the period, the students were putting their supplies back in the cupboard. As Harry reached up to replace his cauldron in its designated shelf (of course Snape had assigned Harry the highest one), his sleeves fell down to his elbows. When he turned around, Lucia was staring at him.

"What's with the bandage?" she asked.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Harry snapped.

"Suicide?" she asked, "or just plain old masochism?"

Harry looked around. Hermione was waiting for him at the door and Snape was sorting through papers on his desk. Everyone else had gone already.

"Go on, Hermione," said Harry through gritted teeth. "I'll catch up with you later, ok?"

Hermione hesitated, but Harry knew she would be rushing to make Arithmancy. She gave him a concerned look, and hurried away.

"If I wanted to kill myself," said Harry, turning back to Lucia, "I'd have found a much more effective way of doing it."

"Would you like me to recommend a good poison, Potter?" Snape said from his desk.

Harry jumped, not realizing the teacher could hear them so easily. "No," he said, "That's alright, I'm good, thanks."

"Are you sure? It would make things so much easier for the both of us."

Harry turned around to face Snape. "Yeah, until Voldemort comes and I'm not there to stop him."

Snape calmly placed his elbows on his desk and rested his chin on his tented fingers. "So now we're resorting to suicide threats are we, Mr. Potter? Give a boy with an already swollen head some idea of his own power and-"

"It's not a threat," said Harry, his voice rising along with the heat in his face, "It's the truth."

"As if you would have the guts to-"

"DON'T YOU THINK I WOULDN'T!" shouted Harry, "DON'T YOU THINK I'D KEEP MYSELF ALIVE FOR ANOTHER INSTANT IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU LOT--"

Harry was ready to start wreaking havoc as he had done in Dumbledore's office only a few months ago after Sirius' death. But Lucia took hold of his arm.

"LET GO OF ME!" Harry screamed.

She wouldn't however, and as Harry fought her he was suddenly very aware of how his neglect of food had affected his strength. He was weak, weaker than this thin girl who'd just come out of a mental hospital for anorexia and suicide. Soon she had him tackled on the floor.

It was Harry's lowest moment yet. There was silence.

I can't fight like this.

Harry was aware only of thinking it, but he must have said it out loud because Snape said, "That, Potter, is precisely the point. Malfoy, please get off of your classmate. I'll have no funny business while I'm around."

Lucia let Harry up, but retained her grip on his wrists.

"So I guess it doesn't matter anyways," said Harry. "I'm going to lose."

"You will if you continue in this manner," said Snape, as though he didn't really care.

Harry stayed where he was, on his knees before Lucia, shaking all over.

"Now," said Snape, "If you are quite finished, Potter, I would appreciate if you left me alone. I'm sure you can find someone else you can scream at who is far more interested than I am."

Lucia pulled Harry to his feet, whispering, "Come on, Harry."

Harry followed her out of the room, feeling utterly empty.

------------------------------------------------

"I don't know what's happening to me," said Harry, trying to light a cigarette he had stolen from Hermione's bag.

He and Lucia were in the boys' dormitory, Lucia sitting patiently on Harry's bed and Harry pacing back and forth in front of her.

"I just..." he said, "I just feel so... It's like I don't have control over myself anymore."

"I know exactly what you mean," said Lucia. "Then again, I'm bipolar, so that's probably not good news for you."

"But I can't..." Harry's voice cracked. "I don't know what to do." He stopped in his pacing and turned to face her imploringly.

She didn't know what help she could give. She held out her hands.

"Come here," she said.

He hesitated, then moved forward.

She knelt on the bed, so that her face was level with his, and placed her hands on either side of his neck. "Harry, tell me."

His eyes darkened with distrust. "I don't know that I can," he said.

"Alright then, so don't tell me. But please, stand still for a moment."

He didn't move. He hardly seemed to breathe.

Then, abruptly, he tore away and started up again at pacing and flicking Hermione's cigarette, trying to get it to light. When it didn't, he pulled out his wand and tried to get the fag to catch from the flame he summoned there. This didn't work either, so Harry threw aside both wand and cigarette in disgust, and resumed his pacing.

A moment after this, he halted and said, "I have nightmares, you know."

"Yes."

"They... In them, I'm always.... I get angry for some reason or another, or maybe I start out angry, and I...."

Lucia waited as Harry ran his hands through his hair several times and looked nervously about the room.

"I always end up killing people," Harry finished. He didn't look at her.

"Who?" asked Lucia.

"Everyone." His voice was harsh and strained. "I end up killing everyone I care about."

Lucia waited a minute before saying, "and now you think that will come true."

"I don't know, Lucia." He turned to face her again, "I'm scared." And she saw the tears glistening on his face.

There was nothing else to do- she stood up and embraced him.

He stiffened at first, but then relaxed. She felt his face dampen her shoulder. As he gave in to her, she gently tugged him backwards until they were both lying on Harry's bed.

Harry sniffed a few times, and after a while he said, almost playfully, "So what are you going to do now?"

"Nothing," she said, settling in at his side and running a hand through his hair. "Nothing at all."

(A/N: Just in case some of you are jumping to conclusions- NO, they did not just have sex. When and if anyone ever does, I shall make it clear.)

----------------------------------------------------

After dinner, Ron, tired of Harry sulking in the dormitory, dragged the dark-haired boy down to the common room.

The two came and sat at the table where Ginny was doing her homework, Hermione joining them a few minutes later. Ginny watched quietly as all three of her companions pretended to work.

Harry kept scratching at his bandaged arm, which made Hermione glance at him out of the corner of her eye each time he did. He was supposed to be writing a Transfiguration essay, due the next day, but he'd only gotten down a few words, which weren't even legible. Ron was muddling through the same essay, though he was almost finished. Hermione, for her part, was looking through a stack of books from the library, having finished all her work that afternoon. Ginny noticed the titles suggested Hermione was more than a little worried over Harry. (The volume she was currently scanning was called "Dream Draughts and Sleeping Serums.")

When Harry seemed to have had enough of the silence, he threw down his quill and drew a crumpled cigarette from his pocket. He waved it around, but nothing happened.

"Dammit, Hermione," he said, "How d'you get these bloody things to light?"

"They're charmed, Harry," said Hermione, slamming the cover of her book shut. "So that buggers like you who steal them can't use them."

Ron looked up and watched his friends fearfully.

Harry scowled at her. "What did you call me?"

"Nothing, Harry." When he continued to glare at her, she burst out, "Well, you did take my last fag!"

"So? I thought you only had one a week anyway," said Harry.

"Yeah, well, certain people have been raising my stress level lately. Certain dirty selfish people with no respect for their friends."

Harry stood up.

"Oh my God," said Ron, "Can't you two just shut up? Don't kill each other, alright?"

Harry walked away.

Ginny caught up with him out in the corridor. He was walking quickly and shaking.

"Harry..." she said, as she drew level with him.

"What's she playing at, anyway?" Harry burst out, stopping suddenly. "I already hate myself, I don't need her help!"

"She's just upset, Harry. Everyone makes mistakes. Can't you let her have her faults for now? You'll forgive her later."

"She's impossible," said Harry.

"She's your friend," Ginny reminded him.

Harry laughed.

Ginny took his hand in hers. "You guys'll work it out," she said, "when you've both had a chance to cool down."

Harry looked away. They stood there for some minutes.

"I..." Ginny started, then paused before beginning again. "I won't say I know what you're going through, because I don't. But I want you to know..." Ah, hell, she thought, and finished with, "Look-"

She pulled up the hem of her robes and showed him the deep scars on her legs. "There are more on my stomach," she said.

"You did that?" he asked, his face impassive.

"Well, yeah," she said. "I wasn't so happy after You-Know-Who almost made me kill my mates."

"I didn't know," said Harry. "Why didn't I know?"

"No one knew," said Ginny. "I mean, my mum found out and made me stop. But even Ron didn't know until I told him and Hermione a few weeks ago."

"But you didn't tell me."

"Well, no. I didn't want to give you ideas."

Harry ran a hand through his hair.

"Harry..." Ginny found her voice choked with emotion, and she couldn't go on. Not that she knew what she wanted to say, anyhow.

There was another long pause, in which Harry examined her, his face still apparently devoid of emotion. She was trying very hard not to run away under the intensity of his gaze.

"Ginny," he said finally. "Why are you nice to me?"

"Because," she said. "You're Harry."

"Because I'm Harry Potter? Is that what you mean?"

"No. Just Harry."

Again he ran his hand through his hair. "Ginny, do you want to be my girlfriend?"

Ginny caught her breath. "Are you asking me to be?" she inquired tentatively.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I suppose I am."

Ginny searched his face. She saw no softness or romance, but affection showed in his eyes. "Then of course I do," she said.

He broke away from her gaze. "Right, then. That's settled."

"Yes," Ginny said lamely. "I suppose it is."

Just as she was beginning to feel a bit cheated and confused, Harry leaned in, as if suddenly coming to a decision, and kissed her on the lips.

---------------------------------------------------

Harry lay in his bed that night (Ron had told Neville not to let him out of the dormitory) wondering why on earth he had asked Ginny out. It was stupid, really, and he hadn't meant to do it. But she had seemed so sad, and he had wanted to cheer her up... But he had to admit to himself that he'd also done it to take his mind off of Ron. He was probably trying to use Ginny to replace Ron, actually. Not that they looked much alike beyond the Weasley hair and freckles, but Harry needed someone to snog, didn't he?

Harry groaned silently, and rolled over onto his stomach, cursing himself for being such a terrible person. Ginny was his friend, and she deserved much better than this. Hell, no one deserved to be used the way he was using her.

But if he broke up with her, what would she think then? He could make something up about Ron not wanting his best friend hooking up with his little sister, but that wasn't likely to fly, as it was pretty clear Ron thought Harry and Ginny were meant for each other. She would be hurt, and they certainly wouldn't be friends anymore.

Harry swore to the dark. He kept digging himself into deeper and deeper messes.

------------------------------------------------------

"Well," Ron grinned when Ginny told him at breakfast. "I'm not surprised. It's about time he got the nerve up to ask you."

"Yeah," Ginny beamed.

Ron glanced at Hermione, wondering if this meant they could tell Harry about their own relationship.

"Congratulations, Ginny," Hermione said, but Ron could tell she wasn't as happy as she sounded.

"You still sore at Harry?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm just sort of sick of his whole angsty Hamlet thing."

"What's Hamlet?"

"Never mind. Here he comes."

Sure enough, Harry and Lucia came and sat beside Ginny.

"Hello, Lucia," said Hermione.

Harry ignored her slight and greeted the others. Ron saw Ginny put her arm through Harry's and smiled inwardly. He'd always suspected that Ginny hadn't really gotten over her crush on Harry. And Harry- Harry must have gotten over Hermione. Hopefully he wasn't just dating Ginny to spite her. He must realize Hermione wouldn't care... But wait, Ron caught himself. Hermione did seem to care. Ron felt his stomach turn. He didn't want to think that Hermione could like Harry, but after all he was Harry Potter.

Ron refilled his glass of orange juice, suddenly wishing, not for the first time, that he had chosen to be friends with someone a little less famous.

----------------------------------------------------------

The week passed without incident, Harry still spending almost all his time with Lucia, chatting nervously with Ginny in the evenings, keeping up pretenses with Ron, and hardly speaking to Hermione.

On Friday it was time for another session with Professor Moon. As Harry stepped into her office, he felt an eternity had passed since he was there only the week before.

"Professor McGonagall," began Moon, as she dug a pack of cigarettes from her drawer exactly as she had last time, "has informed me of your trip to the hospital wing last week, Mr. Potter."

Harry burned with anger, but said nothing.

Moon lit her fag and inhaled as she walked around to the front of the desk, leaning her back against it. "This changes things."

"How so?" Harry growled.

She ignored his tone. "I've been thinking of your training in the context of a healthy adult. I see now that was a mistake. I haven't taken into account your age, and the trauma in your past.

"Now, anger can create very powerful magic. No doubt you found this last year after your Godfather was killed."

"How do you know about that?"

"You'll find I know a lot of things, Mr. Potter."

"But anyways," said Harry, "it didn't work."

"What didn't work?"

Harry met her eyes. "The Cruciatus curse. I tried to use it on Bellatrix Lestrange. I wanted her to suffer for killing Sirius. It didn't work, though. She threw it off and laughed at me."

Moon took a drag on her cigarette and let the smoke out slowly.

"Yes, anger will only get you so far. It provides the force behind some powerful magic, but without focus it burns out and you end up hurting yourself."

"But doesn't Voldemort cast with anger?"

Moon started pacing the room. "Yes, and no. He doesn't use anger, per se, but her does use desire. All emotions fuel magic, Harry. Desire and ambition are what feed Voldemort, so they feed his magic..." She stopped and turned around.

"No," she said, "Let's back up. Has anyone ever told you the guiding principle behind magic? Why it works?"

"Er," said Harry, "Not really."

"Well, as I said, it's fueled by emotion. The feelings we are experiencing determine what sort of magic we will produce at any given time. Simple spells are relatively unaffected by these sort of changes, but anything with a lot of power behind it will also have a lot of emotion behind it. Does that make sense?"

Harry nodded.

"So, with more advanced spells, such as the Patronus, which you already have experience with I believe, the effect varies from person to person. Here-"

She turned abruptly to the chalkboard, picked up a bit of chalk, and wrote squeakily: _Faith, Emotion, Concentration, Visualization, Willpower_.

"These," she said, "Are the five components of advanced magic. They're needed for any magic really, but in simple spells you need so little that you don't even have to think about it. And you'll notice," she added with a small smile, "that there is no wand up here."

She turned back to him. "Do you need your wand?" she barked, sounding suddenly like a drill sergeant (or like Professor Moody).

"No," said Harry, feeling stupid.

"You still don't believe it yet," she said. "But you will."

"Um," Harry interrupted, "Can you get back to what you were explaining before?"

"Oh! Yes, what was I saying? Voldemort uses his lust for power. His ambition is strong, so his spells are strong, you see? Now, you are going to defeat him with love."

There it was again. The same thing Dumbledore had said last year.

Moon must have read the look on his face, because she said quietly, "It will work, Mr. Potter. Voldemort's desire and greed can only go so far. You, however, have the capacity for boundless love."

"So, what, I've got to love Voldemort or something?" Harry was reminded of a book he'd read in primary school- _'I love you, Charles Wallace!' _flashed through his mind briefly.

"In a way, but I shouldn't worry about it. You will, after all, be destroying him."

There was a pause, in which Moon sucked on her cigarette, and Harry stood silently, staring at the floor.

"The point is, Harry, that you can't fight him if you don't love yourself."

Harry looked up quickly and stared at her. "How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know," she snapped, "But you'd better find a way or your friends won't live to see another summer."


	9. Quidditch

Chapter Nine

-----------------

Saturday was the first Quidditch match of the year, between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Harry went to watch with Ron and Ginny, Hermione staying behind to do homework.

They'd had practice on Wednesday, and Ron had announced the new players: The second year seeker, Sara Feild, and Collin Creevey as chasers; the portly boy, Ben MacGuire, and the Cricket star, Michelle Herring, as beaters. Ron had spent the evening going over strategy, and no one had actually flown. A second practice was scheduled after the match.

As the players took the field, Harry, watching from the stands, saw Cho Chang once again flirting with Roger Davies. A spiteful little part of him hoped she saw him with Ginny. Thinking he would kill himself over her... honestly. He also saw Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be the new Slytherin captain. Harry took this development as a good thing, as he didn't think much of Draco's Quidditch skills.

Ginny cuddled up against Harry, and he put his arm around her affectionately, though it was really still too warm for such close quarters.

Ron was apparently thinking the same thing, as he said, "They're going to have a time in this heat, eh?"

"It's no hotter than it is in the spring," said Ginny. "We played in this for the cup last year."

"True," said Ron, "But you don't expect it so early."

"It is weird," said Harry unnecessarily. He tightened his grip around Ginny's waist as her mention of the summer brought to mind Professor Moon's words. Ginny responded by kissing his neck.

"Oh, get a room," said Ron, grinning.

"Shut up, Ron," said Ginny lazily, burying her face in Harry's shoulder.

The match started then, and all conversation thereafter was strictly on the topic of Quidditch.

Slytherin scored early, and their beaters managed to put one of Ravenclaw's chasers out of the game. In fact, by noon the score was one hundred and forty to zero for Slytherin, but then Cho caught the snitch (Harry and Ginny had seen it earlier and said as much to each other) and Ravenclaw won by a mere ten points.

"Slytherin's good this year," said Ron worriedly.

"Yeah," said Harry, "They've added some wicked players. But Draco wasn't even paying attention."

"Must be Lucia," said Ginny.

"She's not even here," said Ron.

"Yeah, but she said she'd talked to him last night."

"How'd she manage that?" asked Ginny.

Harry shrugged. "She didn't say much. I haven't really talked to her this morning, actually."

They made their way back up to the castle to fetch their Quidditch robes and eat lunch before their practice.

-----------------------------------------

After lunch, Ron and Hermione were the first to leave, saying she was going to help him with his Care of Magical Creatures homework. Lucia and Ginny exchanged a look, but Harry remained, as always, oblivious. He did want to leave the table, however, as Ginny was becoming increasingly friendly and it made him nervous. So he followed his two friends a few minutes after their departure.

Later, he would wish he hadn't. For as he trudged mindlessly up the final flight of stairs that normally led to the Fat Lady, he looked up to find that the staircase was behaving quite oddly. He was now faced, not with the portrait, but with a closed door. Thinking he'd taken a wrong turn and wanting to get his bearings, Harry, hardly thinking, opened the door.

Quickly, he shut it again, his face hot. He ran back down the stairs and took an alternate route back up to Gryffindor tower.

Once in his dormitory, Harry shut the door with a loud bang. He was glad no one else was there. He stood in the middle of the room for some minutes, trying unsuccessfully to think straight.

-----------------------------------

"I knew this would happen!" Hermione was saying, "We've gotten careless! I can't believe we forgot to reset the staircase! Oh, Ron, what are we going to do? He's going to hate us..."

"Calm down," said Ron. "I'll go talk to him, alright?"

"Just... make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Yeah, I will." Ron gave her one last kiss before chasing after Harry.

------------------------------------

Harry heard Ron come in, but he didn't have time to react.

"Harry...." said Ron, trailing off.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to sound normal. "How long?"

"We..." Ron stopped. "Since the first day of school."

"I see."

"Harry-"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because we knew you'd be upset!"

"I'm not upset," said Harry. But he was shaking. "Why should I be upset?"

"I don't know," Ron said angrily, "maybe you're jealous."

"What?" Harry whipped around.

"Look, I gave you the chance to say something before! You can't expect me to keep away from her forever just because you may be interested in her!" Ron was red, his ears matching his hair.

Harry shook his head furiously. "That's not it," he said, "That's not it at all."

"Oh, really? Then what is it, exactly?"

Harry looked at his feet. "Don't make me say it, Ron."

"What do you mean?" Ron said. When he was met with silence, his eyes widened. "Wait, you don't mean..... you can't... Oh, Harry."

For Harry had closed his eyes, his hand over his mouth to keep himself from crying. He nodded.

There was silence. Harry didn't want to open his eyes.

"Well?" said Harry, opening his eyes to stare at the floor. "Go on, say it. Tell me how disgusting I am. Tell me you never want to see me again. Tell me...."

"Harry-" said Ron, his voice cracking.

Harry waited, but Ron didn't say anything else.

Finally, Harry raised his head and looked up at him. Ron was staring at him sadly.

"I'll leave if you want me to," said Harry.

When Ron made no response, Harry made to push past him. But the other boy caught his arm.

Harry didn't look at him, but Ron took Harry's face in his hands and kissed him.

"Ron," Harry moaned, pulling away, "What are you doing to me?" He was blushing furiously, painfully aware of his 'excitement,' which he knew Ron must have felt.

"God," said Ron. "You weren't kidding."

"No," said Harry. He turned away.

"Wait, Harry. I- I want you to know... I do like you."

Harry froze.

"If you'd told me earlier.... Harry, I just can't right now..."

"You're in love with Hermione. I know."

"Yes," said Ron sadly. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry sat down on his bed and put his face in his hands.

Ron hesitated, then kissed him again, this time on his scar. Harry caught his breath. He heard Ron turn to leave, then pause at the door.

"Wait," he said, "Just what are you doing with Ginny, anyways?"

"I don't know," said Harry. He expected Ron to say more, but the redhead left without another word.

Harry lay back on his bed, feeling once again empty. He didn't know how long he lay there before Lucia came in and lay down next to him.

"So what's all this Ron business?" she asked.

"He rejected me," said Harry simply.

"But you told him."

"Yes, but what good did it do?" Harry rolled over, so he was turned away from her, facing the wall.

Lucia put an arm around him. Harry could feel her breasts against his back, and wished miserably that it turned him on.

"What did you say to Draco?" asked Harry, changing the subject.

"I apologised. For being a whore when we were younger."

"I bet he took that real well," said Harry, still staring at the wall.

"Actually, he sort of did. No one else was around, so I guess he wasn't worried about acknowledging my existence. He wasn't exactly friendly, but he didn't try to kill me."

"That's a step in the right direction."

"Yeah, and a big improvement. Maybe we'll get to start over."

Harry didn't want to ruin her hopes by telling her what Draco was really like. "He played badly today," he said. "I thought it might have to do with you."

"Maybe," she said. "Speaking of flying around on broomsticks, don't you have practice now?"

"I don't think I'll be going today."

"I see."

"If he wanted me there," said Harry, "He would have come to get me."

"What exactly did he say to you when you told him?"

Harry hesitated. "He- he said he liked me, but he was too much in love with Hermione."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"I can't tell if that's better or worse than I expected," she said.

Harry shrugged, which was awkward as he was lying on his side.

"Oh," she said suddenly, "I almost forgot, I have something for you." She sat up and began fishing about in her pockets. Harry turned over on his back and propped himself up with his elbows.

"Ah," she said at last, and produced a crumpled pack of Marlboros.

"Hey, thanks," said Harry, grinning. "Where'd you get them?"

"Anastasia Moon."

"What, the teacher?"

"No, you idiot, the student. Ravenclaw. Actually, I think she's Professor Moon's cousin or something. Anyway, her sister married a Muggle and now she smokes."

"Why have I never met this girl before?" said Harry, eagerly opening the pack and casting about for something to light them with.

Lucia laughed, and held out her wand, conjuring a small flame at its tip.

Harry lit a cigarette and enjoyed the first few drags immensely. "So now I don't have to deal with Hermione's, I guess."

"Nope."

"How much did she charge you?"

"Oh, I just got them in exchange for sexual favors."

Harry snorted.

"No, actually she just gave them to me," said Lucia. "For you, she was only too happy to oblige."

"I see. One of those?"

"She doesn't fancy you, if that what's you mean."

"Good," said Harry fervently.

"She's a lesbian."

"No way!"

"Yup. Hasn't come out yet, though. But you know what? She absolutely gorgeous."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I can't wait to corrupt her."

Harry laughed and shook his head as Lucia stretched in a self-satisfied manner, like a cat, or more accurately a sex kitten. He adjusted himself so that he was sitting up against the wall, and was surprised when she lay her head in his lap.

He sat and smoked, feeling better than he had in a long time.

--------------------------------------

Ron had been reserved and tense all through Quidditch practice. He still didn't know what Harry might do. He hadn't expected to see him at practice, and was slightly glad when it turned out he was right. He wasn't ready to start pretending just yet, as they would have to the next time they saw each other.

Ginny asked about Harry, of course, but Ron just said that he wasn't feeling well since lunch. Suspicious, Ginny demanded more information, and Ron had to tell her off to stop her questions. Now she was miffed and wouldn't speak to him, which was just fine with Ron.

Hermione greeted him in the common room, her expression asking about Harry. There hadn't been time to talk before Quidditch. Ron waved her off, promising to fill her in later, and headed up to the dormitory to change.

He ran into Lucia on the spiral staircase, and scowled at her. She grinned in return and pushed past him on her way down.

Ron found Harry smoking on his bed, looking at his old photo album of his parents.

Ron cleared his throat. "Erm, hullo, Harry."

Harry looked up and smiled. "Hi, Ron."

Ron began changing out of his Quidditch things, feeling Harry watching him.

"I'll break up with Ginny if you want me to," said Harry suddenly.

Ron paused and looked at his friend oddly. Harry was staring back, that ridiculous thing hanging from the corner of his mouth. "No, now that you've asked her out, you've got to stick with it, haven't you?"

"Is that what you're doing with Hermione?" asked Harry quietly and, Ron thought, hopefully.

"No," said Ron, pulling his robes over his head. "I told you that. But you can't go breaking my little sister's heart for nothing, okay?"

"Right."

When Ron had finished changing, he turned to Harry again. "Do you like girls at all?" he asked.

Harry hung his head. "No. Not really."

Ron nodded absently, and left.

Hermione was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"What did he say?" she asked worriedly.

Ron sighed. "He's queer," he said.

Hermione nodded.

Ron was suddenly suspicious. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. Everyone knows, Ron. The way he looks at you..."

Ron's stomach turned.

"So he told you, did he?" Hermione went on.

Ron nodded.

"I'm surprised," she said. "I didn't think he would ever come out and say it."

"Well, he did."

"And what did you say?"

Ron looked around uncomfortably. "I said I liked _you_."

"That's all?"

"Er, pretty much. I told him I was sorry."

"Hmm." Hermione bit her lip. "How'd he take it?"

"Pretty well, I think. Just now he seemed okay. Even smiled."

"Smiled?" She sounded incredulous.

"Yeah."

"He hasn't smiled in months, probably," she said.

"I know," said Ron.

"I hope he hasn't decided to kill himself," said Hermione slowly.

"What!?"

"Sometimes when people cheer up after a long period of depression, it's because they've made up their minds to off themselves."

Ron stared at her.

She turned around and called to Lucia, who had been sitting with Ginny.

"Yeah?" said Lucia, walking over.

"Do you think Harry's a suicide risk?" Hermione asked, sounding like Madame Pomfrey.

Lucia shook her head emphatically. "Definitely not. Whatever else he does, he'll never kill himself. At least not until Tom's safely gone."

Hermione paled.

"Hang on," said Ron. "You mean Harry thinks it's his responsibility to kill You-Know-Who?"

Lucia nodded. "That's what he thinks."

"Is he mad?" whispered Hermione.

"Probably," said Lucia cheerfully.

"Somehow I'm not reassured," said Ron.

Lucia shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with being mad."

"Is he going to go and try to kill Voldemort himself?" said Hermione worriedly. "Because that would be really stupid."

"No, I don't think he would do that," said Lucia. "He doesn't really want to fight. He's scared."

Ron's stomach turned again. Sick with fear, he unconsciously grabbed Hermione's hand.

"It's good that he's scared," said Hermione shakily. "I'm glad he doesn't want to fight!"

Lucia nodded.

------------------------------------

Monday was Potions time again. Harry, Hermione, and Lucia sat together for once. Harry was trying very hard to be civil to Hermione for Ron's sake, despite the fact that he wanted to kill her, again for Ron's sake (if it weren't for her, wouldn't Ron be with Harry right now?).

Draco nodded slightly towards Lucia at the beginning of class, and flashed Harry a dirty look, a sign things were beginning to go back to normal. If Snape was still thinking of Harry's last Potion's class, he gave no indication of it. Instead, he set them about making a paralyzing potion.

Hermione frowned as Lucia expertly diced some wormwood, the first ingredient. Harry knew that, though she would never admit it, it bothered her that she was no longer the best. Harry got some small satisfaction in seeing her lose for once. Of course, she'd won where it was important, with Ron... No, Harry shook his head. He mustn't get distracted or he would give the potion too much heat or too little seagrass and it might become poisonous.

"Watch it, Malfoy," said Snape, and both Lucia and Draco looked up. It was Draco he had been addressing, apparently, because he waved his wand and all the blond boy's potion disappeared.

"Start over," said Snape, "and this time, get it right."

Draco flushed in anger, and set about preparing his ingredients once more.

Harry had to hold back a smile, remembering all the times something similar or worse had happened to him in Potions class and Draco had laughed at him. Lucia looked miffed. She started chopping her lizard's hearts with more vigour than was probably required, and practically threw them into the cauldron.

Harry's scar hurt. It had, of course, twinged on and off all summer, but it was growing more persistent. He hoped he wasn't in for more sessions of being invaded by Voldemort. Supposedly Dumbledore's spell at the Ministry of Magic last year had broken the connection, but Harry wondered what there was to stop Voldemort from reaching him again.

Of course, thought Harry, maybe he wasn't having visions because Snape wasn't prodding his mind every week.

At breakfast that morning there had been more deaths reported in the Muggle papers. The Daily Prophet remained silent through the growing chaos of Muggle politics. Hermione insisted it was important, and Harry knew she was right. He just didn't really want to believe any of it. The task before him was growing larger all the time. He had not really planned on being responsible for all those Muggles. How many would die as he stayed here trying to get a grip on himself?

"Harry," said Lucia, "You're going to blow up the school if you keep adding those urchin spines."

"Oh," said Harry, coming to his senses. "Right."

"Voldemort is like Hitler, isn't he?" said Hermione suddenly.

Harry frowned. "Where did that come from?"

"I was thinking about the last time Britain has been in so much trouble..."

"Hitler's the Jew guy, right?" said Lucia.

"If by 'Jew guy' you mean the man who slaughtered six million of them, then yes," said Hermione.

Lucia nodded. "They talk about him all the time in Germany. The Muggles do, I mean."

"You think Voldemort is going to set up concentration camps for Muggles?" asked Harry.

"I don't think he needs to," said Hermione. "The only reason Hitler did was because shooting them wasn't efficient enough."

Harry shivered in the heat.

"My father's in favor of extermination," said Lucia idly. "I used to be, too."

Hermione gazed at Lucia with an odd expression on her face.

"Let's talk about something else, can't we?" said Harry desperately.

-----------------------------

Ron was waiting in the dormitory for them, having apparently just gotten up.

"There's a letter come for Harry," he said. "It didn't come with the post because it's from Lupin."

Harry took the letter. They were all watching him, so he opened it and scanned the first lines.

He looked up. "They printed my address?"

Hermione paled. "We didn't want to worry you," she said.

Harry frowned and returned to the letter:

_Dear Harry,_

_We know you're having a time of it, but hang in there. I'm writing regarding certain developments in the papers. The Prophet has stopped reporting altogether, thought this didn't stop them reporting your address for anyone to read, I see. If you've been watching the Muggle papers you'll know they've got their own war coming. Also, your father's favorite slimeball has gotten himself in a scrape, as I'm sure you've noticed. Don't worry, he's fine. One of ours has fallen, though you didn't know him. We are recovering, and there's no need for you to be concerned._

_Dumbledore told you about the Bones', I know, but I wanted to add that you should feel proud of how Susan defended herself._

_I must go, but I want to know what exactly you want us to do with this house, and this elf. Write back as soon as you can,_

_-Remus Lupin_

"I don't even know what all that means," said Harry, showing the letter to the others.

Lucia looked away politely. "Should I leave?" she asked.

"I don't know," said Harry, "Are you going to go snitching to your father?"

"What do you think? Of course not."

"Then I reckon you can stay." Harry glared at Ron and Hermione, daring them to protest. They exchanges nervous glances, but made no motion to counter him.

"I like the way he talks about Snape," said Ron, grinning.

Lucia's eyes widened.

"I don't," said Harry shortly. The mention of his father and Snape together just conjured the picture of fifteen-year-old James dangling Severus upside down.

"He could have chosen a better way to get at who he meant," said Hermione.

"Does this mean someone's died? 'One of ours has fallen'..."

"What else would it mean, Ron?" snapped Hermione.

"And 'we're recovering'. Weird."

"Yeah," said Harry. "You'd think if he really didn't want me to be concerned, he wouldn't have said that."

"So," said Hermione, "I was right, you didn't read the letters Dumbledore wrote you over the summer."

"What?" said Harry, blushing a bit out of guilt.

"Right here, it says Dumbledore wrote you about Susan Bones. But you didn't know before Smith told you."

"That's true," Harry admitted. "I'm still angry with him."

"Well, you'd better get over it," said Hermione. "And I take it that means you don't know what he's talking about with 'this house'?"

"Exactly," said Harry. "How should I tell them what to do with it?"

"It's your house, mate," said Ron.

"What?"

"Sirius left it to you," said Hermione. Lucia let out an audible gasp, then stifled it.

Harry stood still for a moment. "I should have expected that," he said.

"Yes," said Hermione. "He left you all the family money as well."

"Why?" said Harry, "I don't want it."

"It's money," said Ron.

"It's dirty money," said Harry. "He hated them. He hated that house, too." Harry's voice was getting huskier, and he had to swallow several times before he could continue. "I don't want it," he repeated.

"Well, It's yours," said Ron. "And the house is, well, you know."

Harry nodded. "So what does it mean when he asks me what to do with it?"

"He probably wants to know if it's okay that they keep using it," said Hermione.

"Well, of course it is," said Harry irritably, "What do they think I'd use it for?"

Hermione shrugged.

"And this elf," Harry went on, "I suppose that means Kreacher?"

"That's my guess."

"I can't believe they haven't killed him already," said Harry hotly.

Hermione stared at him.

"He lied to me, Hermione! If he'd told me the truth, I wouldn't have gone to the Department of Mysteries, and Sirius would still be alive!" Harry half-shouted at her.

Hermione shook her head but said nothing.

"So, what are you going to tell them to do with him?" asked Ron.

"I dunno," said Harry slowly. "There's not much they can do but lock him up or kill him."

Hermione made a sudden movement.

"Alright," said Harry, "I'll tell them to lock him up. Happy?"

Hermione shook her head again, sighing.

"I'm going upstairs," said Harry, taking the letter back.

"What did you do with the letters from Dumbledore?" asked Hermione, as he turned to leave. "Because if you still have them, I suggest you read them."

Harry knew she was right, as usual, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was admit it, so he merely continued towards the dormitory as if he hadn't heard her.

He did hear, however, as Lucia followed behind him. After all, someone had to be on Harry-watch all the time, and Lucia was the least vulnerable to his moods.

----------------------------------


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